Plums of the Caribbean 2
by MsBrooklyn
Summary: Sequel to "Plums of the Caribbean." Continuing the crossover between PotC and Janet Evanovich's New Jersey bounty hunter, Stephanie Plum.
1. A Sparrow Told Me This Would Happen

Plums of the Caribbean 2: Black Sails in the Sunset By MsBrooklyn  
  
Disclaimer: Janet Evanovich owns Stephanie Plum and the Mouse owns all things PotC. All I own is the idea to put the two together.  
  
Part One – A Sparrow Told Me This Would Happen  
  
People were staring at me. Some were pointing and laughing. It didn't bother me because it wasn't anything new. My name is Stephanie Plum and I'm a bail enforcement agent. Usually, I'm enforcing bail in the Chambersburg section of Trenton, New Jersey known as the Burg, but today, I was in a tiny little town in the Caribbean called Port Royal. It wasn't a vacation. I'd been thrown back in time to 1689, courtesy of John Ring Junior and ended up capturing a Dutch bounty hunter by the name of Rob Grujters.  
  
Grujters was the reason for my visit to Port Royal. He'd been sent to recover opium, which had been stolen or hijacked by my self-appointed tour guide to 1689, Captain Jack Sparrow. Sparrow was a dreadlocked, eye-liner wearing pirate with a ship called the Black Pearl, which was my home for the past three weeks. It was his idea to turn Grujters over to the British authorities and collect the bounty.  
  
So here I was, pulling a small wheelbarrow holding a bound and gagged Grujters through the streets of Port Royal to the office of the Royal Navy. Grujters recognized our destination and his muffled protests became even more frantic.  
  
The two sentries outside the Navy office gawked openly. Sparrow warned me this would probably happen. He told me other things, too. And it looked like probably he was going to be right about all of it.  
  
"I'm here to see Commodore Norrington," I said, giving the sentries a little wave hello.  
  
They exchanged glances and finally, one of them found his voice. "State your business, miss. The Commodore's a busy man."  
  
Sparrow warned me they were going to say that. "My prisoner's an agent of the Dutch East India Company. I'm here to collect the bounty for his capture."  
  
"Excuse us, please, miss."  
  
The two had a quick whispered exchange and then one of them flagged down a passing redcoat. "Lieutenant Gillette!"  
  
Gillette turned, looked me up and down, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, men?"  
  
"This lady has a Dutch man she wants to turn over to Commodore Norrington."  
  
"Indeed?" Gillette gave me his full attention. "Well, by all means, let's go see the Commodore."  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
Commodore James Norrington was everything Sparrow said he would be, right down to the precise curls in his wig. I never understood that custom, but then again, here I was, wearing more fabric than it took to cover a sofa so I would blend in.  
  
Norrington rose, bowed slightly to acknowledge me, and then did a full circuit around the wheelbarrow. "I imagine there is quite a story behind this unusual sight, Miss Plum."  
  
"Not really," I lied. "Can I just get a body receipt and find out where I go for payment?"  
  
"That's a very unusual accent, Miss Plum. I've not heard it's like before."  
  
Okay, Sparrow warned me that might happen. "It's a speech impediment. I really don't want to talk about it."  
  
"I see." He steepled his fingers beneath his chin. "I'm afraid I cannot pay you a bounty until I am assured that the man in your, uh, custody, is indeed Dutch."  
  
"Okey doke." I undid Grujters' gag and poked him. "Tell the man."  
  
Grujters glared at me. "I have no idea what she's talking about. This crazy wench hit me over the head and the next thing I knew –"  
  
"Hey, Grujters!"  
  
Grujters' head snapped in my direction.  
  
"See? Dutch. The British accent's a fake."  
  
"So it would appear." It might have been a trick of the candle-light, but I could swear the man was smiling.  
  
"You might want to interrogate him," I said, pulling a small sack from the wheelbarrow. "He was plotting to smuggle opium into London in coffee shipments."  
  
"Gillette."  
  
"Yes, sir?" Gillette gave me another appraising look and then he winked at me.  
  
"Take the prisoner away."  
  
"Hey!" I stepped forward. "Body receipt."  
  
"You'll get your pieces of silver, Miss Plum." Norrington settled back into his chair and rested his eyes on me. "After I am satisfied with your explanation of the facts."  
  
I wasn't worried. Sparrow warned me this would probably happen. 


	2. Terms and Conditions

Part Two – Terms and Conditions  
  
The cops in Trenton know me. I heard they have a running pool on how many dead bodies I'll run across or how many cars of mine will get blown up in a year. They share information with me when they can and usually look out for me. Norrington was a whole new experience.  
  
We sat there in silence for a really long time while he stared at me. I'm not good with silence. Nobody from the Burg is good with silence. We're all about big hand gestures, screaming matches and breaking dishes. The silent treatment? Not in the Burg.  
  
"How stupid does Mr. Sparrow believe me to be, Miss Plum?"  
  
I liked it better when he gave me the silent treatment. "Huh?"  
  
Norrington leaned forward and focused his stare on me. It was the kind of stare Morelli used at work when he interrogated a suspect. I never had one of those stares directed at me. Until now. "I am aware of only one shipment of coffee that was intercepted from its destination, some six months past. I am also aware that the ship carrying this coffee was raided by a pirate ship matching the description of the Black Pearl."  
  
Of all the things Sparrow warned me about, you'd think he might have mentioned this. I smiled weakly. "Really?"  
  
"Yes. Really." Norrington's gaze didn't waver for a second. "Does Sparrow expect me to believe this fairy tale of opium smuggling he's concocted in order to ransom the coffee back to its owners?"  
  
Uh-oh.  
  
"Think carefully, before you speak, miss. Every word allies you with a known pirate and threatens to incriminate you as a pirate yourself."  
  
Double uh-oh. "I'm not a pirate. I'm a ---"  
  
"Bounty hunter," finished Norrington. "A disgusting lot of scavengers are bounty hunters, particularly in these waters. To my knowledge, there is not a woman among them."  
  
"I'm new in town. I was working in the Colonies, in New York." Fortunately for me, the British controlled New York after 1664. At least, according to Sparrow they did. My knowledge of New York history that didn't involve the Rangers hockey team was pretty sparse.  
  
"Continue."  
  
"I work for my cousin, Vincent Plum."  
  
"And how did you come to be involved with Sparrow?"  
  
"Total accident. My ship blew up."  
  
"It...blew up?"  
  
I shrugged and told him the truth. "A skip threw a bomb at me and blew up the Explorer. Everything else is a blur, up until Sparrow fished me out of the water."  
  
Norrington closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Opening his eyes again , he focused that formidable stare on me. Norrington's stare was good, but my mother's was better. "And then?"  
  
"Grujters started a killing-spree."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"He killed four of the crew and then he tried to take me out. After I found the opium in the coffee beans. I think if we move fast, we can shut down a major smuggling operation."  
  
"We?"  
  
"Okay, you. Or whoever handles narcotics trafficking. The whole point is to get this stuff off of the streets, right?" He was still staring at me. "Come on, it's not like opium is legal."  
  
"As a matter of fact, Miss Plum, it is."  
  
Now it was my turn to stare. "Huh?"  
  
"His Majesty taxes opium at a higher rate than say, coffee, which would explain why the distributor might seek to import it under less than above- board means."  
  
"You've gotta be kidding me!"  
  
"I assure you that I am not."  
  
"You'll get around to banning it eventually," I shrugged.  
  
"Perhaps." Norrington waited a beat before asking his next question. "What does Sparrow want?"  
  
"He wants to get rid of the coffee."  
  
"For how much?"  
  
"He had some ridiculous number in mind," I confided, "but I told him it was evidence and he was better off just turning everything – French roast and opium – over to you."  
  
Norrington blinked and then nodded. "I see."  
  
"Besides, the coffee beans haven't been dried yet, so it's only a matter of time before they get all yucky from mold. I don't believe in wasting food. Or coffee."  
  
"And yet Sparrow seeks to turn some sort of profit by turning over the Dutchman as well," Norrington pointed out.  
  
"I might give him a cut," I admitted, "but I was the one that got shot at and ended up with coffee in my hair. Sparrow just lost a shirt."  
  
Norrington's mouth worked but no words came out.  
  
I took advantage of it. "Anyway, I got Sparrow to agree that I would negotiate the transfer of the remaining coffee and opium to you. One of the conditions is that you let him sail off into the sunset without trying to hang him."  
  
"And the other conditions?"  
  
"There you are, sweet cheeks! I've been looking everywhere for you!"  
  
I suppressed a groan as Diesel let himself into Norrington's office. Norrington's jaw dropped at the sight of this unannounced visitor. Diesel was wearing his usual CAT boots, jeans and black leather jacket over a white T-shirt, his wavy blond hair tied back in a pony-tail.  
  
"We're in luck, Steph," Diesel continued. "Well, sort of, anyway. Our buddy, John Junior, is here in the Caribbean."  
  
"Who...what...," stammered Norrington.  
  
Inspiration struck me. "Commodore? Is something wrong?"  
  
"Don't you see him?" Norrington pointed at Diesel.  
  
I shook my head and blinked innocently. "See who?"  
  
"I take it this isn't a good time," Diesel commented, getting the hint. "I'll catch you back on your boyfriend's ship, cookie."  
  
I pretended not to see Diesel go out the way he came in. "Commodore? The conditions?"  
  
"Yes, yes. The conditions. I will allow Sparrow to dock and drop off the coffee, provided he leaves immediately thereafter. You will personally notify me of his arrival so that we can coordinate the transfer of goods."  
  
"Great." I got up and turned to leave. "About my bounty –"  
  
"I will have it when you return. Now..." Norrington was suddenly very pale, almost as white as his wig. "Please leave. I'm....I must rest." 


	3. Chocolate Cake

Part Three – Chocolate Cake  
  
"Well? How did it go? What did ol' Rigid-Britches have to say?"  
  
I nearly jumped out my skin as a raggedy-figure emerged from a doorway and grabbed me by the arm. Sparrow. In disguise as a beggar. "I thought we agreed to meet at that bar. What was it called? The Bearded Boar?"  
  
"Aye, we did, but ye took longer than I expected." He pulled me close and kissed me lightly on the lips. "I was worried I might have to organize a rescue."  
  
"We need to get you off the street," I said. "Norrington's got a real hard- on for you. What did you do? Boink his wife?"  
  
"He's not married," Sparrow told me, with a smile as mysterious as the Mona Lisa's. "Poor chap was engaged, but it was short-lived."  
  
"And you had something to do with it," I guessed.  
  
"Me? Heaven's no. Would never entangle myself in such a tawdry turn of events." He tsk'ed at me and then steered me down another street. None of the businesses had names, but they did have pictures. We stopped in front of a place that advertised under a picture of a horseshoe. "Of course, I do know who broke up poor Norrie's engagement. He's right in here."  
  
With that, Sparrow shoved me through the door. A smorgasbord of smells hit me at once. Molten metal. Farm animal. Hay.  
  
The horseshoe guy's back was to me and he was so intent on hammering a horseshoe, he didn't hear us come in. Sparrow waltzed right up to the horseshoe guy and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hullo, whelp."  
  
"Gyah!" Whelp dropped the red-hot horseshoe onto his foot. "Owwww! What the --? Jack!? What are you doing here?"  
  
"Stephanie Plum, may I introduce Will Turner?"  
  
Will Turner was hotter than the red-hot horseshoe singeing his boot. Dark wavy hair. Soulful brown eyes. A body to die for. Lula would have been humping his leg in a heartbeat. Me? I just gawked.  
  
Turner took my hand and pressed it to his lips. "A pleasure, Miss Plum. Jack? I trust there's a good story to be told if you're here in Port Royal."  
  
"Aye," Sparrow said, "There is. But I'm sure the little woman would love to hear it, too."  
  
"Of course. You must have dinner with us," Turner agreed, flashing a smile that could melt Alaska. "Elizabeth will be pleased to see you again."  
  
Married. It figured. The hot guys were always taken. Then again, my dance card was pretty full between Sparrow, Morelli and Ranger.  
  
"No need to look so disappointed, love," Sparrow said, swatting me lightly on the butt. "Ye've got the biggest prize of all, Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?"  
  
I rolled my eyes skyward.  
  
"Charming, isn't she," Sparrow crowed at Will.  
  
As much as I was enjoying the scenery, I wanted to get back to the Black Pearl and talk to Diesel. "I'm going to have to take a rain check on dinner."  
  
Sparrow raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Norrington?"  
  
"Diesel."  
  
Sparrow groaned loudly. "Not again."  
  
"He had news."  
  
"Unlike the last ten times," Sparrow complained. "Bringin' ye doughnuts and those pills and just poppin' in to say hello."  
  
Those pills were my birth control pills. When I thought Sparrow was just a hallucination, I didn't worry about birth control. Once Diesel told me I'd really been hurled through time, I sent him on a mission. I figured if he could bring doughnuts, he could make sure I didn't return home with any unexpected surprises. As for popping in to say hello, well, Diesel had been doing a pretty good impersonation of the Great Gazoo when he dropped in on Fred Flintstone, although I drew the line at him referring to Sparrow or me as 'Dum-Dum.'  
  
I shifted from one foot to the other and shot Sparrow a look. "This is different."  
  
"It can wait," he said, firmly.  
  
"I don't think so. He showed up during my meet with Norrington. I had to pretend Norrington was having a hallucination. The poor guy probably ran straight for the liquor cabinet after I left."  
  
Sparrow's stared at me. Finally, he sucked in a deep breath, exhaled and shook his head. The beads in his dreads clicked together softly. "I've said it before and I daresay I'll say it again. Ye scare me, woman. Ye scare me overmuch."  
  
"I need to hear what Diesel has to say."  
  
"I know ye do, pet," Sparrow said, gently. "But it can keep. Come meet Elizabeth. Have some dinner. Will, do ye know if there's cake?"  
  
"Cake?" Turner, who'd been completely flabbergasted by our exchange, now looked hopelessly lost. "I believe there might be. Yes. Yes. Chocolate, I think."  
  
"Chocolate cake, love," Sparrow wheedled. "Ye wouldn't want to pass up chocolate cake, would you?"  
  
Damn him for knowing my weakness. Cake helps me think. My parents are Hungarian and Italian, which means I've got pale skin, blue eyes, curly brown hair and a metabolism that lets me eat cake and still button the top snap on my Levis. "All right. Dinner. But I can't guarantee that Diesel's not going to get impatient and drop by."  
  
Turner smiled uncertainly. "I'm sure we can set another place if your friend arrives, Miss Plum."  
  
"Then it's settled," Sparrow said, grabbing my hand and squeezing firmly. "Dinner. And you, love, will behave yourself. No setting the table on fire or shooting the main course."  
  
I should never have told him about dinner at my parents' house.  
  
A/N – A hearty thanks to Cinnamongrrl for "Rigid-Britches" - it was just too good to pass up. 


	4. Dinner with Mr and Mrs Perfect

Part 4 – Dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Perfect  
  
The Turner house was part of a larger estate, which Will explained with an embarrassed shrug, belonged to his father-in-law, the Governor of Port Royal. So, I thought, here's the real story. Hot horseshoe guy marries the plain-Jane governor's daughter for her money. Probably, he was still hammering horseshoes because the governor was holding on tight to the purse strings.  
  
I got to enjoy that illusion for as long as it took to make it to the front door of the house, where Mrs. Hot Horseshoe Guy was waiting. Elizabeth Turner was, for lack of a better term, drop-dead gorgeous. And she was clearly as in love with her horseshoe-making hubby as he was in love with her.  
  
When she saw Sparrow, a delighted grin lit up her already glowing face. "Jack Sparrow, as I live and breathe –"  
  
"Captain," sighed Sparrow, melodramatically. "It's Captain Jack Sparrow."  
  
"Captain Jack Sparrow," she amended with a pleased smile, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek before turning her attention to me. "We've missed you dreadfully, Jack. And who is this?"  
  
"I'm Stephanie Plum."  
  
"She's a bounty hunter," Sparrow added, slipping an arm around my waist and guiding me inside the house.  
  
"Truly?" Her eyes grew wide at this and she took my hand. "Oh, you must tell me all about it."  
  
"Aye, she captured a Dutchman just this week," Sparrow told her, giving me an affectionate squeeze. "Just came back from turnin' said Dutchman over to Norrington."  
  
Elizabeth's eyes grew even wider and her mouth dropped open. "I would have given anything to have seen James' reaction."  
  
"It wasn't pretty," I admitted. "Especially when he figured out I was working with Sparrow. He threatened to charge me with piracy."  
  
"Good heavens." Elizabeth blinked in amazement. "Were you afraid?"  
  
"Of course not," Sparrow answered for me.  
  
"Absolutely," I said. "Scared out of my mind."  
  
"You cad," Elizabeth scolded Sparrow, "Sending her in to face James."  
  
It was the second time she referred to Norrington by his first name. That's when it hit me. "It was you! You were the one who broke off the engagement with Norrington."  
  
"Nothing gets past you, does it," Sparrow asked me, with a grin.  
  
I narrowed my eyes at him. "You know way too many of the details, Sparrow."  
  
"That's because he was there," Elizabeth put in, a wicked glint sparkling in her eyes. "Don't tell me he hasn't told you how he got the Black Pearl back?"  
  
"Perhaps," Will Turner said, softly, "we can exchange stories over dinner. The first course is on the table."  
  
Maybe nobody was going to set the table on fire or shoot the main course, but I had the feeling dinner was going to be very interesting.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
Sparrow spun the stories while I stuffed my face. He exaggerated a lot. At a couple of points, I even kicked him under the table. But mostly, I listened. The man was a born story-teller. And the story of how he got the Black Pearl back was even scarier than the story about how Ramirez the boxer stalked me.  
  
"And that," he said, grabbing my thigh under the table, "is how I got me ship back."  
  
I plucked his hand off and held it up to the light, checking to make sure all the skin was where it was supposed to be. "So you're back to normal?"  
  
He grinned at me. "There's a full moon tonight, love. You can check later."  
  
Will emitted a small choking noise and coughed a mouthful of food into his napkin. Elizabeth, on the other hand, simply grinned.  
  
"It figures," came Diesel's booming voice. "Here I am looking everywhere for you and I find you less than twenty feet from the chocolate cake."  
  
I slapped my forehead with my hand as Diesel walked in carrying the cake.  
  
"Hi folks. Don't mind me. I'm just passing through. Probably, you're all having a group hallucination." Diesel set the cake on the table in front of me. "Can I see you in the kitchen, please?"  
  
"I'm kind of in the middle of dinner –"  
  
"Save her half the cake," Diesel instructed, grabbing my arm and dragging me through the door to the kitchen. He looked around and made sure we were alone. "It's stakeout time, sweetheart. Are you ready to stop playing pirate's wench and go back to pretending you're a bounty hunter?"  
  
"Stakeout? How can we do a stakeout? It's not like we can park on the street in our car because there are no streets and no cars in 1689."  
  
He grinned at me with his dazzlingly white teeth and the corners of his eyes crinkled. Diesel would have been downright hot if he wasn't such a pain in the butt. "There are streets. No cars, but there are streets."  
  
"Which brings me to my next question, how are we supposed to get around?"  
  
"I'm sure Mr. and Mrs. Perfect out there have a horse they can lend us."  
  
"Unh-uh! No way. I am not getting on horse."  
  
"What? You're afraid of horses?" He started making chicken noises at me. "How can you be afraid of horses when you've got a niece who thinks she's horse?"  
  
"I'm not afraid of horses. I just don't like driving anything that's got a mind of its own."  
  
"Look at it this way, sweet cheeks. What are the odds of someone blowing up a horse?"  
  
"What the bloody hell are you going on about, man?!" Sparrow threw open the kitchen door and glared at Diesel.  
  
"I have to go on a stakeout," I mumbled.  
  
"A what?" He grabbed my arm and pulled me to his side, still staring daggers at Diesel. "You're not going anywhere by yourself at night."  
  
"She won't be by herself. She'll be with me," Diesel told him.  
  
"Oh, that's bloody reassuring, as you stand here talking about exploding horses," Sparrow snapped. "And will somebody please tell me what a stakeout is?"  
  
"It's us, hiding in the shadows and waiting for John Junior to show up," I explained. "Except I don't know what he looks like."  
  
Diesel reached into his jacket and handed me a photo.  
  
"He's not going to win Mr. Universe," I commented. John Ring Junior was the spitting image of his father, except instead of having pure white hair, Junior's was bright red. The scowl was absolutely identical.  
  
Sparrow snatched the photo from my hand and looked at it. "What is this?"  
  
"It's from the future," Diesel said, plucking it from Sparrow's hand and shoving it back in his jacket. "More stuff that you're not supposed to know about."  
  
"I'm coming with you," Sparrow said, shooting another pissed off look at Diesel. "Ye may be from the future and know everything, but I know everything about 1689, savvy?"  
  
Looking at my two stakeout buddies, I knew it was only a matter of time until the horse got blown up.  
  
Author's Notes and Miscellaneous Ramblings:  
  
Janet Evanovich has added more to her preview of Ten Big Ones on www.evanovich.com. I can hardly wait, can you?  
  
If you're suffering until June 21st, the release date for Ten Big Ones, here are some recommendations. I have a long commute to my job, which means I read a lot. In no particular order:  
  
Clea's Moon by Edward Wright. Takes place after WWII. John Ray Horn is an amazingly original character. I couldn't put this one down.  
  
Maneater by Ray Shannon. If you like them fun and funny and you're into Elmore Leonard-type capers, you'll love this tale of Hollywood hijinks. Not a rip-off of Get Shorty. Worth the read.  
  
Weeping by Shelly Reuben. Ignore the bizarre name of the heroine, Fritillary Quilter, and read away. This one will have you laughing out loud and choking up as you follow Tillary through her first arson investigation. I finished this one in a day – it's that good.  
  
Maisie Dobbs by Jacqueline Winspear. Another weirdo name, but my gosh, what a debut novel. Nominated for an Edgar, this mystery takes place after WWI, and to say more would spoil it completely. Get thee to Amazon.  
  
And finally, for those of you who have no idea who Diesel is, pick up "Visions of Sugar Plums" by Janet Evanovich. Stephanie Plum is on the trail of Sandy Claws and gets attacked by midgets or are they elves? So what if it's a holiday novella? It's Plum fun. 


	5. The Stakeout

Part 5 – The Stakeout  
  
"Look," Diesel said, slowly. "This is something Stephanie and I can handle on our own. I appreciate your offer –"  
  
Sparrow drew himself up. Suddenly, the affable, lovable goofy pirate I'd been hanging out with seemed more than a little dangerous. "It's not an offer, mate."  
  
"You stick out like a sore thumb, Jack Black."  
  
"It's Sparrow. Captain. Jack. Sparrow. Savvy? And ye're a fine one to talk about sticking out. Are those even clothes?"  
  
It was starting to get ugly. I slipped out of the kitchen and back into the dining room, where I ignored the stares of the Turners and cut myself a huge slice of chocolate cake. Taking a forkful, I sighed with relief and looked up at Will Turner. "Probably, it would be a good idea for you to go in there before somebody takes a swing at somebody else. I figure you've got two minutes and some violent swearing before that happens."  
  
Will stared at me. His mouth dropped open. And then he dashed into the kitchen.  
  
I took another bite of chocolate cake. "This is really good."  
  
Elizabeth smiled weakly. "Thank you."  
  
"I'm looking for a guy," I told her. "He's new in town. Red hair. About six feet tall. Skinny."  
  
She looked thoughtful and took a forkful of the chocolate cake on my plate. "That sounds like the man who just opened the apothecary in town."  
  
"No kidding."  
  
"No kidding." A small, conspiratorial smile lit up her face. "It's not far. You know, I've never been on a stakeout before."  
  
"You heard that?"  
  
"I'm surprised all of Port Royal didn't hear it." Her smile grew wider. "We can borrow my father's carriage."  
  
I glanced towards the kitchen and heard Sparrow's raised voice followed by Diesel's. Will Turner's voice cut in but was quickly overpowered by Sparrow and Diesel. "Probably, I'm going to get in trouble for taking you with me."  
  
"Probably," she agreed.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
We left the governor's carriage in front of one of the local taverns and instructed the driver to wait for us. The driver snorted and muttered something under his breath about women.  
  
"You realize he's going to tell your father all about this little trip."  
  
Elizabeth smiled again. "And I'm sure my father will be properly scandalized."  
  
We walked in silence through the small town, past Will's shop and down another street until Elizabeth stopped and pointed at one of the small, one- story storefronts.  
  
"There."  
  
"How can you tell," I asked. "It looks like all the other stores."  
  
She looked at me and shook her head. "The sign."  
  
"The upside-down bell?"  
  
"The mortar and pestle," Elizabeth corrected me and then she narrowed her eyes at me. "Are the signs so different in New York?"  
  
I nodded. "Very."  
  
"What do we do now?"  
  
"You're going to be lookout while I see if he's home," I instructed. I guided her down the narrow alleyway next to the apothecary. "Stand here and if somebody comes by, call your husband's name and complain about him keeping you waiting. Got it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good." I walked over to the first window, which was firmly shuttered. The next two windows were also shuttered. "Glass windows aren't popular, huh?"  
  
"Too expensive." Elizabeth sidled up to me. "Now what?"  
  
I pressed my ear to the door. It sounded like nobody was home. I stepped back and looked at the door. "It would be illegal for me to break in."  
  
"I suppose it would," Elizabeth agreed, her mouth twisting into a moue of disappointment. "Is that it then? Do we go back?"  
  
I tried the doorknob. It turned, so I pushed the door open, just a little bit. "Look at that. Somebody left the door open."  
  
Elizabeth's eyes grew wide as comprehension dawned. "How careless."  
  
"Did you hear something? It sounded like somebody saying they fell down and couldn't get up."  
  
"I do believe I did," Elizabeth agreed. "Perhaps you should go in and check. It wouldn't do to leave some poor soul crying for help."  
  
Elizabeth would have fit right in back home in the Burg. "Stay out here."  
  
"Lookout again?"  
  
"Lookout. It's a very important job." Lula, my usual partner, was the world's worst lookout. She usually disappeared at the first sign of danger or the police and left me to deal with whatever the problem was. I hoped Elizabeth was marginally better, since this wasn't my usual stakeout. This guy was the one responsible for sending me through time and blowing up my truck.  
  
I left her standing outside while I slipped inside the apothecary. It was pitch black inside and I didn't have a flashlight or even a candle. I moved carefully in the small shop. Moonlight and the torches outside reflected off of the jars that lined the shelves on the walls.  
  
Out of curiosity, I picked up one of the jars, took off the lid and sniffed the contents. It smelled like a cross between camphor and used sweat socks. Blecchh. I put the jar back and kept going. There was a small cabinet behind the counter and I crouched down to inspect it. It wasn't locked, either, so I opened it.  
  
"Oh, crap."  
  
The contents of the cabinet definitely didn't belong in 1689. I was pretty sure plastic explosives and electronic timers were 20th Century inventions. Still, I wasn't going to waste any of the 28 seconds left on the clock worrying about it.  
  
I got out of there and grabbed Elizabeth's hand. "Run!"  
  
"What? What did you see?"  
  
We were halfway up the street when the apothecary blew up. 


	6. The Interrogation

Part 6 – The Interrogation  
  
"Why am I not surprised to find you here, Miss Plum?" Commodore Norrington looked me up and down and shook his head. He turned his attention to Elizabeth. "I am, however, surprised to see you here, Mrs. Turner."  
  
We were standing outside the smoldering ruins of the apothecary while a bunch of redcoats poured buckets of water on the embers and made sure nothing else was burning. A group of them were on patrol when the apothecary blew up and they found Elizabeth and me lying on the ground, shielding ourselves from flying debris. They insisted on holding us until Norrington showed up.  
  
"I've never seen her before in my life," I lied. "She was just passing by when that shop blew up."  
  
Norrrington smiled tightly. "Indeed?"  
  
"Yup." I batted my eyes innocently. It was hard to look innocent when the dress I was wearing was shredded and burned in spots. I didn't even want to think about my hair. "Maybe you should let her go home. Her family's probably worried."  
  
"Just so." Norrington gestured to one of the redcoats. "Murtogg."  
  
"Yessir."  
  
"Escort Mrs. Turner home."  
  
"Yessir." Murtogg turned to Elizabeth and offered his arm. "Right this way, m'um."  
  
"Wait." Elizabeth marched up to Norrington. "James. A word, please."  
  
"Of course." His expression softened slightly as he looked down at her.  
  
"What's going to happen to her? She saved my life, you know." She blinked up at Norrington, all wide-eyed innocence. Her dress was a lot cleaner than mine, too.  
  
Norrington sighed. "I must do my duty, Elizabeth. This...bounty hunter...was at the scene of some sort of mischief that could have killed someone. I am holding her for questioning and will arrest her if the facts and circumstances warrant it."  
  
"Oh, but, James –"  
  
"Elizabeth." He shook his head. "I cannot ignore my responsibilities."  
  
I stepped forward before she slipped up and let on that we knew each other. "I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Turner. Really. I'll be fine. You should go home."  
  
"Very well." Elizabeth took Murtogg's arm. "My carriage is just a few streets over, Mr. Murtogg."  
  
As I watched her walk away, Norrington's hand clamped down on my shoulder. "Come, Miss Plum. We shall discuss tonight's events back at my office."  
  
Somehow, I didn't think there was going to be cake.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
"I've never cared for bounty hunters," Norrington told me, as he steered me into one of the wooden chairs in his office. "I believe I care even less for you, Miss Plum."  
  
I brushed some ash from the remains of my dress. The cops back home in the Burg were used to my involvement in explosions and finding dead bodies. I knew what to expect from them. Carl Costanza and his partner, Big Dog, were usually the first car on the scene and I was used to the jokes that followed their arrival. I wasn't used to somebody doing a really good imitation of my mother.  
  
"Tell me what happened, Miss Plum. I will know if you're lying."  
  
As I looked into those narrowed eyes, I didn't think he was kidding. "The man who bought the apothecary...I don't know what name he's using here, but his real name is John Ring, Junior. He was the one who blew up my Explorer."  
  
Norrington regarded me silently and gestured for me to continue.  
  
"I was on my way back to the Black Pearl when I saw him." Okay, I knew I was taking a chance, lying to Norrington, but somehow, I didn't think he'd believe me if I explained how I really found out John Junior was in Port Royal. "I followed him back to his shop and then I asked around and found out it was his. That gave me some time to go bring Sparrow up to date. Then I came back here to do a stakeout –"  
  
"A what?"  
  
"Surveillance?"  
  
"I see. Go on."  
  
"And then ka-blooey. I think Junior's got a thing for bombs."  
  
"Ka-blooey," Norrington repeated, a pained expression on his face. "I know I'm going to regret asking this, Miss Plum, but why does Mr. Ring want you dead?"  
  
I smiled weakly. "I took down his father."  
  
Norrington's eyes widened slightly. "You killed his father?"  
  
"No! No killing," I corrected him quickly. "His father was a fugitive. A very dangerous fugitive. I helped bring him in."  
  
"What made him so dangerous, pray tell?"  
  
Oh great, Stephanie. I gave myself a mental head slap. Somehow, I didn't think Norrington would believe it if I tried to explain how John Ring Senior incinerated my parents' Christmas tree just by touching it or how the electricity just crackled off the miserable old coot. "He was a killer. When he was younger. So they put him away, but he escaped. He was less dangerous when I went after him because he was an old geezer."  
  
"I see."  
  
I decided to leave out how Ring was dating my Grandma Mazur and that he escaped from some sort of retirement/jail facility for super-powered people back wherever it was that Diesel came from.  
  
Norrington continued to study me.  
  
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. These 17th Century dresses were uncomfortable enough, but the grit and charred rubble definitely wasn't helping.  
  
"I find it interesting," Norrington finally said, "That Sparrow would allow you to remain on the Black Pearl given your situation and his instincts for self-preservation."  
  
"He's not," I said, quickly. "He told me once he's rid of the coffee, he's rid of me, too. Probably, that's because I wouldn't sleep with him."  
  
Norrington looked horrified.  
  
I wondered which of the things I'd just said did it.  
  
"You have twenty-four hours, Miss Plum," Norrington said, coldly, regaining his composure. "You will help Sparrow turn over the coffee and then I want both of you out of Port Royal."  
  
"Ring –"  
  
"Will be dealt with, assuming he exists. In the meantime, Miss Plum, have a care." Norrington got to his feet opened his office door. "I will be watching you." 


	7. Safe as Horses

Chapter 7 – Safe as Horses  
  
As I left the gates of the Royal Navy outpost, I realized that I had no idea where to go. I couldn't go back to the Turners' house, since we supposedly didn't know each other and Norrington was going to be watching my every move. There was no way I could sneak there, either, with my Bride of Frankenstein hair and shredded dress. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the Navy sentries staring at me and sniggering. The sneaky approach was definitely out.  
  
"There you are!" A hand clamped down on my shoulder and I was drawn into a big, bear hug. I panicked for a full second before I realized it was Diesel. He was wearing a set of obviously-borrowed clothes that were too tight and too short. Will Turner's, I guessed, since Sparrow only had the clothes on his back and I doubted he would lend them to Diesel or anybody for that matter. Diesel's twinkling brown eyes met mine as he whispered, "Nice work, Steph. That's twice you walked out of Hang 'em High Norrington's clutches. I'm proud of you, sweet cheeks."  
  
"Hang 'em High Norrington," I echoed, my stomach dropping down to my toes. "You're kidding, right?"  
  
"Yeah, actually, I am." With that, he took my arm and led me down the narrow streets of Port Royal. "Well, sort of. He likes to hang pirates. There's no record of him hanging bounty hunters, but, y'know, there's always a first time."  
  
My left eye started to twitch. I put my hand over it. "Where's Sparrow?"  
  
"Waiting for you in the smithy."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"The place where they make horseshoes. Jeez. Don't they teach you anything in those Jersey public schools besides how to wear too much make- up and buy slut shoes?" Diesel punctuated this with a snort. "You might not want to rush over there. He's a little ticked off on account of you almost got Mrs. Turner blown to bits."  
  
A hundred comebacks were at the tip of my tongue. I bit them all back and asked instead, "Did she get home okay?"  
  
"Yeah. And I think she wants to be a bounty hunter." Diesel flashed me another grin. "Uh-oh. We're here. Ready to go in and face the music?"  
  
It didn't matter whether I was ready or not. The door flew open and an angry-looking Captain Jack Sparrow yanked me inside by the shredded sleeve of my dress. Diesel walked in behind me and shut the door. I could swear I heard him snickering.  
  
Sparrow's eyes narrowed as he looked me up and down. He didn't say a word.  
  
Diesel mouthed the words 'ticked off' at me and grinned again.  
  
"I don't know where to begin," Sparrow sighed, deflating slightly and shaking his head. He put his finger to his lips and looked thoughtful for a moment. I could tell inspiration struck when he straightened and pointed that finger at me. "You, love, are a bloody menace."  
  
Diesel guffawed loudly at this. He kept going for a full minute while Sparrow and I watched before he recovered enough to speak. "He nailed it in one try."  
  
"Nailed what," Sparrow demanded.  
  
"Her boyfriend calls her that, too." Diesel tried to hide another bout of laughter behind his hand. "Uh, that would be Morelli, not Ranger."  
  
"Ranger?" Sparrow's eyebrows rose dangerously high. "Who the bloody hell is Ranger?"  
  
Diesel turned to me. "You told him about Morelli but you didn't tell him about Ranger? Shame on you."  
  
My eye started to twitch again. I slapped my hand over it and stopped it. "Ranger is a bounty hunter I sometimes work with."  
  
Diesel started to open his mouth again, but I glared at him and he suddenly got busy inspecting the anvil.  
  
Sparrow heaved another weary sigh. "We'll come back to Ranger some other time, eh? Now, as for your little adventure in Port Royal..."  
  
I waited, but Sparrow seemed to have run out of steam for the moment.  
  
"Maybe you should start by being thankful she didn't borrow a horse," Diesel told him. "Think about it. That horse would be hamburger. Wait. They don't have hamburger in 1689. Well, you get the point, right?"  
  
Sparrow's mouth dropped open.  
  
"Frankly, I'm surprised you let her anywhere near your boat," Diesel continued, winking at me. "She goes through at least two cars a month – that's like a carriage, but without the horse. The horses in 2004 are perfectly safe around Stephanie."  
  
Both of my eyes were twitching now and it looked like Sparrow's eyes were doing the same thing.  
  
"Well, I can see the two of you have some catching up to do, so I'll just give you some privacy." With that, Diesel let himself out of the smithy.  
  
Sparrow stared at me for a full minute before dropping down on to a hay bale and burying his face in his hands. When he looked up, his eye-liner was smudged. I decided I could probably wait to tell him that.  
  
"Love," he said, softly, his expression somewhere between concern and resignation. "Next time I warn ye not to do anything stupid, that includes going off by yer onesies either on the Pearl or off, taking the governor's daughter with ye and getting yerself or anyone else blown up. Savvy?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Good." He nodded and some of the worry left his face. "It's settled then."  
  
"Right," I agreed. "No more getting myself blown up."  
  
"Ye're very lucky nothing happened to either of you."  
  
"I think Junior was just sending a warning," I told Sparrow. "The timer was rigged for thirty seconds and since the only damage was to the building, I figure he didn't use a lot of plastic explosive."  
  
Sparrow's gaze sharpened and then he seemed to draw back into himself, slipping into a deliberately more casual pose. "Can ye build a bomb like that, love?"  
  
What a schemer! "Do I look like I could build a bomb like that?"  
  
His eyes swept over me once more. "Forget I asked."  
  
I looked down at the ruined dress and sighed. "There's no Macy's in Port Royal, is there?"  
  
Sparrow looked blankly at me.  
  
"I need clothes."  
  
He got up and walked over to a table in the corner. Holding up a paper- wrapped bundle, he smiled. "Elizabeth sent this along with her thanks. The whelp, however, will probably thrash ye on sight. We're lucky he agreed to let us spend the night here, what with Norrington snooping around."  
  
"Can't we go back to the boat – uh, ship?" I'd learned my lesson about calling the Black Pearl a boat. After a two-hour lecture on the difference, I swore I'd never make that mistake again.  
  
"Norrington," Sparrow intoned, taking my hand and leading me over to a pile of hay in the corner. "No doubt he has his men on the alert for us. We'll stay here until daybreak and then walk out."  
  
"Won't they notice us?"  
  
"That's the beauty, love. Norrington and his lot expect us to sneak about under cover of darkness. We'll be walking in broad daylight."  
  
"Hiding in plain sight."  
  
"Aye." He pulled me down with him and wiped at my face. "Brilliant, isn't it?"  
  
"Crazy."  
  
"But brilliant."  
  
"If he catches you –"  
  
"He won't." Sparrow grinned at me. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy? Besides, I've got my badass bounty hunter with me. I'll be safe as horses. Get it?"  
  
Swell. 


	8. The Noose

Chapter 8 – The Noose

Sparrow was still sleeping when I slipped out of the smithy, wearing my borrowed dress. No matter how ticked off he'd been, he still had the decency to fill up a wash-basin for me and bring a hair brush. For a pirate, Sparrow was a pretty decent guy. As I closed the door, quietly, a finger tapping my shoulder nearly made me scream. I spun around.  
  
Elizabeth Turner smiled at me. "I'm pleased to see the dress fits you."  
  
We both looked down at the light blue flowered cotton dress. The fabric was thinner than the one I'd been wearing the day before, which meant I wouldn't be sweating as much. I had no idea how women managed before shorts and Spandex.  
  
"Not as pleased as I am," I told her. "I was afraid it wouldn't and I was going to have to walk around in what was left of the one I was wearing yesterday."  
  
She looked over her shoulder and then back at me. "I thought perhaps we could do some more surveillance today."  
  
"Your husband –"  
  
"Won't know about it, as long as we're careful."  
  
"I don't think it's a good idea."  
  
"I brought you the leftover chocolate cake," she countered, holding up a napkin-wrapped parcel. "We can eat it on the way."  
  
It was the best bribe I'd had in a long time. "I really shouldn't..."  
  
"Townsfolk are more likely to answer the governor's daughter than a complete stranger," Elizabeth said, pressing the leftover cake into my hands. "We really should get going before Jack wakes or Will arrives. The urgent errand I distracted him with will only delay him so much."  
  
"If anything happens –"  
  
"It won't."  
  
"It'll be my neck in the noose," I warned her. We started walking down the street. "Is it true they call him 'Hang 'em High Norrington'?"  
  
Elizabeth's lips twitched and her eyes sparkled. "I've not heard James called that before, though I have heard him called Commodore Noose-ington."  
  
I gulped. "You're kidding, right?"  
  
"On the contrary, it is one of the few nicknames that I am most proud of," came Norrington's voice in my ear.  
  
"James," Elizabeth exclaimed.  
  
"Noose," I squeaked.  
  
Norrington smiled down at both of us. "Ladies. A lovely morning for a stroll, isn't it?"  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
Busted. Elizabeth and I exchanged looks as Norrington came closer. Despite the fact that the sun wasn't even completely up yet, he looked well- rested and his uniform was crisp, despite the hot, sticky morning. Not a hair of his wig was out of place. His eyes swept over me, paused at the napkin-wrapped cake in my hands and then lingered on Elizabeth.  
  
"For two ladies who hadn't met before last evening, you appear to have developed a close friendship," he commented. He fixed me with a piercing stare. "Or perhaps I misunderstood your explanation, Miss Plum?"  
  
"Oh, for heaven's sake, James," Elizabeth scolded, diverting his attention. "Captain Sparrow sent her to see me when she arrived in Port Royal. She was protecting him."  
  
It would have been a great explanation, if I hadn't told Norrington that little fib about Sparrow wanting me gone.  
  
Norrington's eyebrow rose in inquiry as he turned to me again. "It seems I misunderstood a great deal during our previous conversations."  
  
I thought fast. "Well, you did have that strange...episode...during our initial meeting. Are you sure you're remembering everything correctly?"  
  
Norrington went pale for a second and then his composure came back. "Perhaps, Miss Plum, we should speak again."  
  
"Good idea. How about lunch," I suggested.  
  
He grabbed my arm. "Now."  
  
I surprised myself by pulling out of his grasp. "Later. I have work to do."  
  
A small gasp reminded us that Elizabeth was still there.  
  
Norrington seized my arm again. "Go home, Mrs. Turner. You do not want to be involved in this."  
  
"He's right," I agreed, remembering Sparrow's comment about her husband wanting to thrash me.  
  
"Very well," she sighed. "Do treat my friend well, James. I expect to see her at my table this evening for supper."  
  
"Indeed I shall, Mrs. Turner. Indeed I shall."  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
We walked back to his office in silence and I thanked my lucky stars that most of Port Royal was still asleep. Norrington pushed me through the door and then turned to bolt it closed. On his desk lay the remains of the digital timer and a few bits of red wire.  
  
"One of my men found that amid the rubble," Norrington commented, slipping past me and seating himself behind his desk. "I was quite certain that you would have an explanation."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Ka-blooey," he reminded me, folding his hands and resting them on top of the desk. "Given your previous colorful explanations, I find myself quite looking forward to hearing this one."  
  
Once again, I had to think fast. "What makes you think I know anything about it?"  
  
Norrington flashed me a faint smile that made my blood run cold. "One, you claim to be hunting this Ring person. Two, you were there. Three, call it a...gut feeling."  
  
Oh boy. Maybe honesty would help. "What if I can't tell you?"  
  
"Interesting choice of words. You cannot tell me. Why can you not?"  
  
Somehow, I didn't think Diesel's smirking explanation of 'it's classified' would work. "I can't tell you that, either."  
  
"Indeed?" The eyebrow climbed again. "What can you tell me, then?"  
  
I looked down at the charred bits of plastic and wire on his desk. "Those are parts of a very sophisticated explosive device. And before you ask, no, I don't know how to make one."  
  
Norrington smiled again and this time, there was a hint of warmth in it. When he wasn't scaring the crap out me, I realized that Norrington was actually kind of hot. "What else can you tell me?"  
  
"Just that Ring is very, very dangerous."  
  
He picked up the remains of the timer. "I would tend to believe you, if this is an example of his work. I have a proposal, Miss Plum, and I recommend that you listen very carefully."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Norrington leaned forward. "I am going to assist you in capturing this Ring person. In exchange, I want your full cooperation. Do we have an accord, Miss Plum?"  
  
"There might be some things I can't tell you."  
  
"Can't," he repeated, his gaze going hard again. "That would not be full cooperation, would it?"  
  
"I guess not," I agreed. "It's nothing personal. It's just...."  
  
"Just what?"  
  
"You know what they say about a little knowledge being dangerous?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"It's like that."  
  
"Is it Sparrow," he asked, his eyes not leaving mine. Could it be that underneath all that prim and proper military bluster, he was actually concerned about me?  
  
I shook my head. "Look, I wish I could tell you, but I can't. Am I under arrest? Are you going to hang me now?"  
  
Norrington smiled as he reached across the desk and patted my hand. "Worse. Despite my reservations, I am going to help you. You may find yourself longing for the noose before we are done."  
  
I didn't think he was kidding. 


	9. Hanging with Noose

Chapter 9 – Hanging with Noose  
  
There are some things in life you know you are going to regret doing before you do them. As I opened the door to the smithy, I looked over my shoulder at Norrington. Yep. This was definitely one of those things. "Jack?"  
  
"There you are!" The smile died on Sparrow's face when he saw Norrington behind me and then it came back, even brighter. "Well, good morning to you, too, Commodore Norrington. Did my bonny bounty hunter turn me in to you then?"  
  
Norrington's eyebrow rose slightly as he looked down at me and then he turned his attention back to Sparrow. "Despite her protests to the contrary, I deduced you were not far from where I came upon Miss Plum and Mrs. Turner this morning."  
  
"He's going to help me look for Junior," I told Sparrow. "He promised he's not going to hang you today."  
  
"Oh, well, if he's not going to hang me today...." Sparrow smiled lazily and gestured for me to come to him. "Would ye excuse us just for a moment, Commodore?"  
  
"Certainly, Sparrow."  
  
"Captain Sparrow, if you please," Sparrow corrected him, taking my arm and guiding me into a corner. Still smiling, Sparrow tilted his head, looking very much like his namesake. "The dress looks lovely on you, pet."  
  
He was being way too happy. It was starting to scare me. "Thanks."  
  
"I did warn ye not to do anything stupid, didn't I," he asked, softly.  
  
"I just –"  
  
Sparrow interrupted me with a finger to my lips. "Let's take it step by step, shall we, and see if we can't find out where ye went wrong. Ye went off by yer onesies. I know I told ye not to do that, so that was a mistake, yes? Ye involved Mrs. Turner. We spoke about that, too. You got caught by Norrington. I didn't warn ye about that, so maybe that one's my fault. I think my very favorite part so far is that ye brought him here and he promised not to hang me today."  
  
"I –"  
  
"Shhh." He used two fingers now. "He's agreed to help ye find your man, so that part isn't so very bad. In truth, I find myself quite impressed by that particular turn of events."  
  
Sparrow took his fingers away and eyed me expectantly. There wasn't really much I could add to that, so I rolled my eyes and walked back to Norrington. "I told you he wasn't going to be happy about it, Noose."  
  
"Just so," Norrington agreed.  
  
"Noose," Sparrow echoed, his eyes growing wide. "Ye have a pet name for him?!"  
  
"It's easier than calling him Norrington," I shrugged. "That's a real mouthful. Besides, back home in the Burg, just about everyone had a nickname. I grew up with guys nicknamed Moochy and –"  
  
"Noose," Sparrow repeated. "Ye call me Sparrow, but him ye call Noose! Woman, you are the most vexing –"  
  
"Hey, guys! What do you think? Do I look like a younger, sexier George Washington or what?" Diesel let himself into the smithy and stopped short, his gaze flitting from Norrington to Sparrow to me and then back to Norrington. "Hoo boy. Did I interrupt something juicy or what?"  
  
Norrington's mouth dropped open at the sight of Diesel wearing period clothing that fit a hell of a lot better than what he'd borrowed from Will Turner. His black suit was topped off with a pair of Ray-Bans. "You! You're real!"  
  
"And I do everything that real boys do, too," Diesel told him. He turned back to Sparrow. "You're gonna have to fill me in. I bet I missed some real fireworks."  
  
"She calls him Noose," Sparrow told Diesel. "I think that sums it up sufficiently."  
  
"Yo, Noose, how're they hanging?!" Diesel gave Norrington a friendly punch in the arm. "Dude, I'm kidding. Really. Lighten up. Sweet cheeks, how much did you tell ol' Noose here?"  
  
"We got as far as Junior is a very, very dangerous man."  
  
"Cool." Diesel flashed a smile at Norrington. "Hi. I'm Diesel. I work with Stephanie."  
  
Norrington looked him up and down while he decided on a course of action. It was the first time I'd ever seen him flummoxed. Apparently, it was the first time Sparrow saw it, too.  
  
"If ye decide to hang him, I wouldn't complain, Commodore."  
  
A smile slowly worked its way across Norrington's face. "I'm close to hanging the lot of you and taking the rest of the day off."  
  
"Damn, I love this guy," Diesel exclaimed, clapping Norrington on the back. "This man is law enforcement at its finest."  
  
I rolled my eyes and wished I could hang the lot of them and take the rest of the day off if this was what I was going to have to put up with.  
  
"You keep rolling your eyes like that and you're going to shake something loose in there," Diesel told me. "Anyhow, it looks like you've got everything under control here, Steph. I'm going back to headquarters to see if we can get a better bead on Junior. You doing legwork with Sparrow and Noose?"  
  
I nodded, not really trusting myself to say anything at all.  
  
"Great. I'll hang with you guys later. Get it? Hang?" Snorting, Diesel let himself out of the smithy.  
  
"If I don't shoot him the next time I see him," Sparrow told me, "it means I'm actually starting to like him."  
  
"If that happens," Norrington put in, dryly, "I'll shoot both of you."  
  
It was a shame there were no doughnuts in 1689. I could have eaten about two dozen chocolate ones right there.  
  
A/N – Sorry about that pesky chapter numbering problem. I learned how to count over Memorial Day weekend. Special thanks to those wonderful people who've sent their feedback, including So I Am, whose consistent, persistent and sometimes cryptic comments often provide that much-needed kick in the butt to get me writing again. Luv ya all. 


	10. Explanations

Chapter 10 Explanations  
  
We stood there staring at each other for a good minute until Norrington broke the silence. "You say you work with Mr. Diesel?"  
  
"Sometimes," I answered cautiously and I noticed Sparrow taking a small half-step back.  
  
Norrington's expression didn't give anything away as he asked, "Is he a relation?"  
  
I shook my head. "Just a friend. Why?"  
  
"I find it interesting," Norrington said, slowly, "that you share the same so-called speech impediment."  
  
Diesel was right. Norrington really was law enforcement at its finest and he was scary as heck. I looked at Sparrow for help, but Sparrow was busy fiddling with one of the swords that were on display. I guessed this was his idea of payback for me giving Norrington a nickname.  
  
"I suspect it is not really a speech impediment at all," Norrington continued, walking over and plucking the sword from Sparrow's hands, ignoring the indignant stare Sparrow threw at him. "I would venture to guess that your manner of speech is a regional accent and that you both are from the same place. I would further venture to guess that this Ring person we are seeking is also from this unknown place. May I remind you, Miss Plum, of your pledge of full cooperation?"  
  
"She's from the future," Sparrow told him, draping his arm around my shoulders. "A place called New Jersey and the year be 2004, I believe."  
  
I pulled away from him. "Are you out of your mind, telling him that?!"  
  
Sparrow grinned at me. "Ye promised Noose here full cooperation, love. Besides, the man fought undead cursed pirates. After that, what's a woman bounty hunter from the future, eh, Noose?"  
  
"What indeed," Norrington agreed. He leaned down to look at me more closely. It unnerved me and I took a step back. Sparrow wrapped his arm around me again. "My assumptions regarding Mr. Diesel and Ring are correct, then?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
Norrington raised an eyebrow. "You guess?"  
  
"Diesel's from my future or that's about as much as he explained to me and since Junior is from where Diesel is from, I'd figure he's from the future, too." As I listened to the words coming out of my mouth, even I didn't believe me. "Diesel just showed up in my apartment last Christmas."  
  
Both men were gaping at me. Norrington recovered first. "He just showed up?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"I woke up and there he was."  
  
"There he was," Sparrow echoed, his eyes narrowing as he tightened his grip on me. "And just where would there have been, love?"  
  
I rolled my eyes. "In my living room, for crying out loud."  
  
"I am almost afraid to ask this," Norrington began, "but –"  
  
"You should always be afraid to ask her anything," Sparrow told him. "I've learned that the hard way."  
  
"But," Norrington continued, throwing an annoyed glance in Sparrow's direction, "did he simply appear and ask you to track down this Ring person with him?"  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
"Pretty much," Norrington repeated. "And you have been working together since?"  
  
"No." I shrugged. "Diesel went back wherever he came from and then he showed up a couple of weeks ago to tell me that Junior sent me back in time. I thought I was having a hallucination on account of being hit with a tire or a fender from my Explorer when it blew up."  
  
"Ka-blooey," Norrington said, softly, rubbing his eyes. "I can understand the appeal of hoping that Captain Sparrow is a hallucination."  
  
Sparrow smiled at Norrington and I hoped never to have one of those smiles directed at me. "Ask her about the superpowers."  
  
Norrington sat heavily in one of the chairs and heaved a deep sigh. When he looked up at me, I shuddered involuntarily. The man was clearly not happy. "Superpowers. Miss Plum, it seems you've neglected to tell me a good many things."  
  
"I said there were things I couldn't tell you." I slipped out of Sparrow's embrace. "I thought other people might have had the common sense to remember that loose lips sink ships."  
  
"The superpowers," Norrington reminded me. "I'm waiting."  
  
"Ring, Junior and Diesel have superpowers. Or something." I shrugged helplessly. "Diesel never really explained it, so I can't. He won't explain it to you, either, since what we're doing here could maybe affect the future and it would be my luck that Twinkies don't get invented."  
  
Norrington got back to his feet. "Are all women from the future like you?"  
  
"What do you mean," I asked.  
  
"Are all women from the future this frightening?"  
  
At least he didn't ask what a Twinkie was. 


	11. The Fancy Blue Jacket

Chapter 11 - The Fancy Blue Jacket  
  
Norrington was quiet for a long time while he digested everything I just told him. He just sat there, staring at me. Sparrow was also quiet, but he wasn't still for a second, fiddling with anything and everything that was around and I could swear I saw him slip a small knife into his sleeve.  
  
After about two minutes of this, it occurred to me that I was standing there, waiting for something. I gave myself a mental head slap when I realized that I was waiting for them to tell me what to do next. Looking down at myself, I knew it had to be the dress. A dress like this would make any woman think she was helpless. I was a lot of things but helpless wasn't one of them. It was time to go to work.  
  
I turned to Sparrow. "I want my clothes."  
  
He put down the papers he'd been rifling through and looked up at me, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards in a smirk. "Do you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I prefer you in that dress, looking like a woman."  
  
I narrowed my eyes. "I want my clothes, Sparrow. Now!"  
  
"And do ye think I'm carrying them with me," he asked, moving closer, smirk firmly in place. "Even if I had them, what do ye think you'd be doing with them? The good people of Port Royal might not appreciate fine 21st Century tailoring."  
  
"I don't think I'd look any weirder than you," I told him. "They don't seem too disturbed by a pirate wearing all that eye makeup and dreads."  
  
There was a snort of laughter from Norrington, who quickly covered his mouth with his hand. "Pardon me, Sparrow."  
  
Sparrow took the time for a quick eye roll and then turned his attention back to me. "Sorry, pet, you'll stay in that dress."  
  
"I don't have time for this. I'll meet you back here at noon. Make sure you bring my clothes, underwear and the pepper spray that was in the pockets of my cargo pants. That's the little metal cylinder." I started to head for the door but he grabbed my arm.  
  
"We'll get to the part where you think you can give me orders later, preferably in private," he said. His tone was mild but his eyes showed the tiniest hint of annoyance. "I want to know what it is ye think you and Noose'll be doing while I scurry off on this errand."  
  
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "We'll be doing it on the deck of the Doubtless."  
  
"The Dauntless," Norrington corrected me. It was amazing how he didn't show the slightest bit of emotion. "It's the Dauntless."  
  
"What do you think I'll be doing," I said, pulling out of Sparrow's grip. "I'm going to the recorder's office and I'm going to look at the deed for the apothecary to see if there's any useful information. I bet the clerk remembers Junior. And then I'm going to see if he has any ties to the community. There's gotta be something that brought him back to 1689 and I'm hoping it's a girlfriend –"  
  
"Excellent plan, Miss Plum," Norrington said, getting to his feet. "Shall we?"  
  
"I was kind of thinking that maybe I should work alone. If people see you in your fancy blue jacket, they might be less inclined to share things with me."  
  
Now it was Norrington's turn to narrow his eyes and look annoyed. "While I might concede your point, I would like to bring three things to your attention. One, you are a stranger to Port Royal with no means of transportation. Two, your quarry likes to use explosives as his calling card and I would be remiss in my duty to protect Port Royal if I sat back and did nothing. Three, while women may be bounty hunters in the 21st Century, they do not have such occupations in 1689. You will attract more attention than my fancy blue jacket if you travel unaccompanied and ask too many questions."  
  
He was right. "Okay, you're on, but get this straight. I am not asking your permission to do my job. Or yours either, Sparrow."  
  
"How can you, since I'll be scurrying back to the Pearl to fetch milady's things?" Sparrow crooked his finger at me. "Come here."  
  
"Are you going to grab my arm again?"  
  
He grabbed my arm, pulled me to him and kissed me. When he finally let go, he smirked down at me. "I'll see ye back here at noon. Behave yourself. Remember ---"  
  
"No going off by my onesies. No blowing anything up."  
  
"And don't do anything stupid." Sparrow emphasized the last word. "Mind ol' Noose here. It just may keep ye alive."  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
It was a short walk from the smithy to the town hall, where Norrington assured me we'd find the recorder's office. We walked through the ornately carved mahogany doors into the dimly lit office. There were four mahogany desks, each occupied by an overweight middle-aged man wearing similar- looking 17th Century suits. None of them bothered looking up. Bureaucrats were the same in any century I figured.  
  
A scrawny, harried-looking younger man who reminded me of Bob Cratchit came in from an alcove to our right. He nearly dropped the leather-bound ledgers he was carrying when he saw Norrington.  
  
"Good day, Mister Comstock," Norrington said.  
  
Comstock set the ledgers down and I noticed his hands were shaking. This was a guy who'd done something wrong and knew he was about to get found out. I had a gut feeling it involved Junior. "C-can I help you?"  
  
"I need your records concerning the parcel of land where the apothecary stood," Norrington told him. "I want all the information you have concerning the most recent purchaser."  
  
"The man who bought it is my husband." I was amazed how easily the lie came out. I could never have gotten away with a lie like this in the Burg, but since nobody knew me here, I figured it was worth a shot. Probably it didn't count as doing anything stupid. "He said he was going out for a walk. That was a month ago. He didn't mention another woman to you, did he?"  
  
Comstock's mouth was hanging open. He snapped it shut and goggled at me. Finally, he made up his mind and nodded. "The widow Stark was with him. They seemed kind of...friendly."  
  
I looked up at Norrington. "You know who that is?"  
  
"I do. We can discuss that later."  
  
"Did he give a prior address when he bought the parcel of land," I asked Comstock. Norrington kicked me in the shin, warning me that I was asking too many questions. I ignored him. "And how did he pay?"  
  
"If you give me a moment, I'll fetch the records," Comstock said. "They're in the back."  
  
He headed back into the alcove and suddenly I had a sinking feeling. "Noose, would you know if there's a window back there?"  
  
Norrington's eyes showed a flicker of surprise as he caught up to my train of thought. He glanced down at me and then ran for the door. I took off after him, running as fast as the dress would let me. By the time I caught up to him, he was holding Comstock and there was a pile of smoldering ash at his feet.  
  
"I'm afraid he burned the records," Norrington said.  
  
"It doesn't matter. Probably the information was bogus."  
  
"And yet worth burning."  
  
"It's a shame you can't take him in for questioning."  
  
Norrington raised an eyebrow. "Can't I?"  
  
Mental head slap. There was no Fourth Amendment yet and people were guilty until proven innocent. It sure made things a lot easier, as long as you weren't the one under suspicion. "I guess you can."  
  
Comstock's mouth dropped open. "P-please. I'll talk! Anything you want to know."  
  
Norrington smiled down at me and I felt certain parts of me start to tingle. "I think you owe my fancy blue jacket an apology."  
  
Humble author's note: I screwed up on the jacket color, originally posting this as red. Cinnamongrrl put me wise and I reposted. Thanks for the fashion tip! 


	12. Inconspicuous and Unarmed

Chapter 12 – Inconspicuous and Unarmed  
  
I trailed behind Norrington as he frog-marched Comstock through the streets of Port Royal. The town didn't seem so big at first, but as I followed Norrington, it started to feel like I was walking miles. The sun was rising fast and with it, the heat and humidity. My borrowed dress, which had seemed light enough when I put it on this morning, now felt like a fabric oven. I was sweating and panting, wondering why Norrington wasn't even breaking a sweat, despite the heavy wool layers of his Navy uniform and that wig. Not even Comstock's struggling and whining seemed to be exerting Norrington. He marched steadily on, head held high. I was starting to wilt like a lily.  
  
Finally, Norrington stopped and turned around, looking down at me. "Take my arm."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You're falling behind and worse, you are conspicuous. Take my arm."  
  
I took his arm and let him drag me along the street with Comstock. Finally, we encountered one of Norrington's men, standing in front of the bakery. I knew it was a bakery, not just from the amazing smell of freshly baked bread but also from the powdered sugar on the lips of the pudgy redcoat. I recognized him from last night but couldn't remember his name. He swallowed loudly and hastily as he tried to process the sight in front of him. I guessed it wasn't every day he saw Norrington dragging a prisoner and a bounty hunter through the streets.  
  
Norrington, of course, could have been handing the guy a newspaper instead of a prisoner, for all the emotion he showed. "Mr. Murtogg."  
  
"Sir." Murtogg drew himself up, his eyes flicking from Comstock to me and back to Norrington. I noticed Murtogg also had a dusting of powdered sugar on the front of his red uniform. Were there 17th Century pastries with powdered sugar?  
  
"Take custody of Mr. Comstock and let him sample His Majesty's hospitality. I will be interrogating him later today." Norrington turned quickly and shot me a look that warned me not to ask any questions.  
  
"Yessir!" Murtogg grabbed Comstock. "Come along, you."  
  
"B-but I said I would talk," Comstock bleated.  
  
"Oh, you'll talk alright," Murtogg told him, shoving him down the street, taking the mystery of the powdered sugar with him.  
  
Norrington watched them leave and then turned his gaze down to me. "I find that time in a cell loosens a tongue quite effectively. Comstock will tell me everything and then some by the time I pay him a visit later."  
  
"But he was going to talk."  
  
"And most likely lie," Norrington sniffed, "in a pathetic attempt to cover up his own wrongdoings. You will see that my methods are quite effective."  
  
"So while we wait for solitary to soften him up, are we going to check out the widow," I asked.  
  
A small smile crossed his face. "I thought perhaps you might like to stop into the baker's. You seemed rather intrigued by the sugar that Murtogg was wearing."  
  
"You confiscated my cake," I reminded him. With a pang, I realized it was still on his desk, unless Murtogg got to it already. "Besides, I haven't had breakfast."  
  
"And, of course, you have no money."  
  
"Well, I would if somebody didn't stiff me on a certain Dutchman."  
  
Norrington smiled again. "Very well, since I've deprived you of your bounty and your breakfast, allow me to purchase a Countess cake for you."  
  
"It's the least you can do," I agreed.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
I sat outside the bakery, eating my Countess cakes, waiting for Norrington to come back with our transportation. He'd been a little taken aback when I ordered three of the small sugar-covered cakes, but then sighed and ponied up the silver. I was beginning to appreciate a stiff upper lip in a man. At least I didn't get a lecture about what the cakes could do to my thighs. Or my teeth. Countess cakes, it turned out, were as hard as rocks.  
  
I wiped the last of the sugar from my lips just as Norrington came up, riding a big, brown horse. I got to my feet and looked at the horse. The horse looked back at me with its big, brown horse eyes. As if by silent agreement, we both backed up a step.  
  
"Unh-uh. No way," I told Norrington. "Forget it."  
  
"It is the least conspicuous mode of transportation." He steadied the horse. "Besides, Sophie is quite gentle."  
  
Sophie and I looked at each other. Very slowly, I reached out to pat her on the nose. Sophie bared her teeth and bit me.  
  
"Owww! I thought you said she was gentle!"  
  
"She is. Usually." With that, Norrington scooped me up onto the saddle in front of him.  
  
I was about to complain that I was sitting all wrong when I realized that I was probably sitting side-saddle. I knew that reading Black Beauty and the Black Stallion books would come in handy some day. What the books didn't tell you was that horses smelled.  
  
"Miss Plum, have you never been on a horse," Norrington asked, his lips at my ear.  
  
"No. Well, I think maybe when I was three, at a petting zoo." I seemed to remember that horse biting me, too.  
  
His arm tightened around my waist. "Then you shall have to trust me and do as I say or you will be quite sore."  
  
Swell. I couldn't wait to see what the rest of the day was going to bring.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
The Widow Comstock didn't just have a house. She had a plantation and a great big, white mansion. I couldn't tell what she was growing on the plantation, but it looked like bananas were one of the crops.  
  
Norrington slowed Sophie to a walk. "I don't like this."  
  
I looked harder, trying to figure out what was so obvious to him. And then I realized that there were no workers in the field. "Maybe it's not planting or harvesting season?"  
  
"Your future must be a strange place indeed," he said, softly. "You know nothing about horses or farming, do you?"  
  
"Nope, but I know about guns and finding fugitives."  
  
"Touche." I could hear the smile in his voice but I knew if I turned around to look, I was going to fall off the horse. "The fields should be abuzz with activity. This is most peculiar."  
  
I had a sinking feeling what we were going to find in the mansion and something told me Norrington had the same feeling.  
  
He guided Sophie under a tree and set me down before dismounting. "We'll go on foot."  
  
I nodded. "Good idea."  
  
"Are you armed," he asked me.  
  
"I don't like guns."  
  
"I didn't ask whether you like guns, Miss Plum. I asked whether you have one."  
  
"It's at home, in my cookie jar."  
  
"In the future."  
  
"Right."  
  
Norrington sighed. "You are a most worrisome creature, Miss Plum. If we encounter this Ring person, how do you expect to apprehend him?"  
  
"I'll think of something. I usually do."  
  
"I was afraid you were going to say that." 


	13. Things Go KaBlooey

Chapter 13 – Things Go Ka-Blooey  
  
As we made our way up the front steps of the huge porch, I noticed two things. The front door was open slightly and there were no flies buzzing around. The lack of flies was a good sign that we weren't about to walk into a mini-Jonestown. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and took a good look at the front of the colonial-style mansion. Was it right to think of the style as colonial, since this was technically the colonial era? I couldn't ask Norrington and probably Diesel would make fun of me for asking. I gave myself a mental head slap and turned my attention to the door. The door was massive, ornately carved, setting off a white- washed exterior. Judging by the harshness of the sun, they probably white- washed the house once every three months.  
  
The shade of the porch wasn't really that much cooler than the sun, thanks to the humidity, but at least it was a little bit cooler.  
  
Norrington drew his sword and looked at me. "You should stay here."  
  
"Like hell. Give me your gun and a handkerchief, if you've got one."  
  
"That's rather foul language for a lady," Norrington said, reaching into his pocket and handing me his handkerchief. "You may have this, but I cannot – no, I will not – give you a gun."  
  
I suddenly realized that of the two of us, I was the one with more experience with what we were probably about to walk into. "Look, Noose --- "  
  
"Would you please just call me James? It was amusing while it vexed Sparrow, but as I've spent the past two hours listening to you pepper me with that name, I must admit, I find it rather irritating." He moved closer and stared down at me. "Very well, Miss Plum, you may attempt to persuade me to give you my gun. After you explain why you need my handkerchief, since you do not seem to be using it."  
  
I took his left hand, since his right had the sword in it and turned it palm side up. "Fingerprints. No two people have the same fingerprints. In about a hundred and fifty years, somebody is going to figure that out and it's going to become all the rage in tracking criminals. The hankie is going to help me not to disturb whatever crime scene we're about to walk into. Even if you can't use what we find, I can send Diesel back here to gather up evidence."  
  
Norrington looked down at his left hand as if he'd never seen it before. "That's...incredible."  
  
"Great. Now give me the gun."  
  
He handed it to me wordlessly.  
  
I tried to crouch down in the dress and ended up falling on my ass. Norrington took my arm and yanked me back up to my feet. "Do me a favor. Use that sword and make a slit on the side of this skirt so I can move and don't lecture me about proper and improper or I'll tell you things about the future that will turn your face red permanently."  
  
"You are an uncommon woman, Miss Plu –"  
  
"Stephanie. My name is Stephanie. You can call me Steph, if you want, but the 'Miss Plum' thing is getting old fast." Great. We were now James and Stephanie and Sparrow was going to have a cow. Also, we were making way too much noise, but then again, it was broad daylight and the place seemed to be deserted.  
  
With a sigh, Norrington make a small, two-inch slit. I rolled my eyes and pointed and he did it right the second time.  
  
I crouched again, gripping the gun in both hands and used it to nudge the door open, while staying out of the line of fire. Nothing. I kneeled down and looked for trip wires. Years of watching action movies were paying off. "Okay, it's safe. I think."  
  
"That's very reassuring." He stepped boldly through the front door, sword drawn and stopped abruptly so I crashed into his back. "Dear lord."  
  
I pushed past him and saw what stopped him in his tracks. The great entranceway had a shiny white marble floor that probably cost a small fortune in the 17th Century. Hell, marble floors cost a small fortune in the 21st Century. But that wasn't what stopped Norrington in his tracks. It was the giant burn mark in the middle of the floor, left like a calling card.  
  
"Lightning," Norrington whispered. "Lightning. Inside the house."  
  
Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and it wasn't from a premonition. "We've gotta get out of here. Now."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It's a trap. Run! And for God's sake don't run under any trees."  
  
We ran out of the house as fast as our feet could carry us, which meant even with the slit, I was gasping and puffing behind Norrington.  
  
Zzzzzzaaaaappppp!  
  
A bolt of lightning hit the ground in front of us.  
  
"But...there's not a cloud in the sky..." Norrington's eyes were wide. "Miss Plum –"  
  
"Later. I'll explain later." I pulled him down as another bolt of lightning sizzled over us and a cackling laugh echoed as the bolt of lightning hit the fence that Sophie was tethered to. She took off as fast as her hooves could carry her.  
  
The smell of ozone was strong as I looked around. We were screwed. The house was surrounded by open fields with no shelter except trees. I was sort of grounded, thanks to the Vibram soles of my boots, but I wasn't about to take a direct hit of lightning to find out how much they could handle.  
  
"Steeeeeeepppphhhhanieeeeeee! I'm going to kill you, Stephanie!" Junior's voice was high and squeaky but that didn't stop it from scaring the crap out of me. "I'm going to kill Diesel and your crazy grandmother and your dog, too!"  
  
"That's nice, but the dog is Morelli's. I have a hamster."  
  
"The hamster is dead, too."  
  
Me and my big mouth.  
  
Norrington got to his feet. "Come out and face me."  
  
Zzzzzzzzzzaaappppfffffffffff.  
  
I pulled Norrington back down just in time. "Are you crazy or just stupid, waving a sword around all that lightning? Oh wait, you guys didn't discover electricity yet."  
  
He pushed me down and covered me with his body. "Have you a better idea?"  
  
"Hiding. For years, maybe."  
  
"I don't hide."  
  
"I prefer not to, but since I don't know if I can invent lightning rods and assault rifles, I may have to."  
  
"If we survive, Miss Plum, we are going to have a very long talk about what full cooperation means." He gave me a long, meaningful look. "I would prefer not to show you His Majesty's hospitality to get a full explanation."  
  
"Does this mean I can't call you James?"  
  
Later, if I survived, I would have to tell Sparrow about the first time I saw Norrington roll his eyes.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
Norrington rolled off of me. "He seems to have stopped."  
  
I sniffed and didn't smell ozone. The hair on the back of my neck wasn't standing up anymore. "I think he's gone."  
  
"Do you? Do you really?"  
  
"Sarcasm really doesn't go with the uniform, Noose."  
  
We both stood up and dusted ourselves off. Norrington was staring daggers at me. "James. You will call me James or Commodore or even Norrington, but do not call me Noose."  
  
I shrugged and looked around. There were a few small fires and some new lightning burns. "Does this mean we're not friends anymore?"  
  
"It means you deserve a rather sound thrashing," he told me. "I will leave that to Sparrow to mete out. I doubt he will be pleased to hear about this morning's events. I intend to spare no detail."  
  
"Sparrow wouldn't –"  
  
"He is a pirate, Miss Plum," Norrington told me, primly. "And not above raising his hand to a woman. On the other hand, I might choose not to tell him anything if you explain what happened. With no omissions."  
  
My left eye started to twitch. "You're blackmailing me? "  
  
"Think of it not so much as blackmail, but a way to entertain me during the two hours it will take us to walk back to town." He cocked his head at me. "Your eye is twitching."  
  
I slapped my hand over it and looked back at the house. At least the house didn't blow up. I suddenly got a sick feeling in my stomach. "Oh crap. Run! Don't even look back!"  
  
"Again?" Norrington stared at me for a beat, threw me over his shoulder and took off. We just made it past the front gate when the house blew into smithereens.  
  
So much for preserving the crime scene.  
  
Norrington dropped me and covered me with his body again. When the debris finally stopped falling he levered himself up and looked down at me. "Ka- blooey?"  
  
"Ka-blooey," I agreed.  
  
"You don't seem at all surprised."  
  
"Things happen."  
  
"And these things just happen to explode."  
  
"Sometimes."  
  
Norrington closed his eyes. If he'd been my mother, he would have made the sign of the cross. When he opened his eyes, he informed me gravely, "You, Miss Plum, are a menace."  
  
I had to agree. Everyone said so, so maybe it was true. "I guess I am."  
  
"And it isn't even noon," Norrington sighed. 


	14. The Whole Truth, Kind Of

Chapter 14 – The Whole Truth, Kind Of  
  
People were staring. I was used to people staring, whether it was the 17th Century or the 21st Century. Norrington wasn't used to being stared at, I guessed, since every so often, he'd turn to me and give me a look. He hadn't said a word to me in half an hour, just marched towards town, his upper lip as stiff as his back. We looked like we'd been in a war. Norrington's usually smart blue naval uniform was covered in dirt and torn in places. The dress that Elizabeth Turner gave me wasn't in better shape.  
  
We stopped outside the door to the smithy and Norrington turned to me. "We're rather late and I expect that Sparrow will be quite cross with you."  
  
"You're getting off on that, aren't you?"  
  
"I'm certain I do not know what you mean." He turned the knob and opened the door, flashing me a brief, almost feral smile. "After you, Stephanie."  
  
Will Turner was pounding away on a sword when he caught sight of me. He raised the hammer and exclaimed, "You! You're the one who nearly got my wife killed!"  
  
Norrington slipped between us. "She nearly got me killed today, Mr. Turner. It appears to be a nasty habit."  
  
"A habit," Turner echoed. "Who has habits like that? You're...you're....a menace!"  
  
I rolled my eyes at him and Turner emitted a frustrated noise.  
  
"Ah...." The lanky form of Sparrow untangled itself from a pile of hay in the corner. "My bonny bounty hunter has returned. Finally."  
  
It was almost as bad as seeing Morelli after one of my episodes. Sparrow got to his feet, walked towards over and then did a full circle around me. His hand reached out and fiddled with the slit in my skirt. "Well, now. Look at you two. That must have been quite the morning, eh?"  
  
"It got ugly," I admitted.  
  
He knelt next to me and admired Norrington's sword-work on my skirt by running a finger from the shredded hem all the way to where the slit ended, at mid-thigh. He looked up at me, chocolate brown eyes showing nothing except curiosity. "Is this something I need to worry about?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Okay." Sparrow got back to his feet and ruffled my hair. "So, pet, what blew up this time?"  
  
"The Stark mansion," Norrington told him. "As well as a goodly part of the Stark plantation. My horse barely escaped unscathed. Stephanie and I were nearly struck by the lightning several times before the mansion exploded by what she assures me is a bomb and not lightning."  
  
"But...there's not a cloud in the sky," Turner put in, his eyes going wide as he cut his eyes to me. "How....?"  
  
"Stephanie has a very interesting explanation for that," Norrington said, dropping into Turner's chair with a barely concealed sigh of relief. "Stephanie has many interesting explanations, don't you?"  
  
I shrugged. Sure, he took the only chair in the room. "Uh, well...."  
  
Sparrow raised an eyebrow. "He calls you Stephanie?"  
  
"Whatever." I waved my hand. "Did you bring my clothes?"  
  
"Well, now, it seems that I have to be the bearer of an interesting explanation, meself," Sparrow said, handing me a small bundle of black fabric. "Turns out the Black Pearl has a few mice after all and they took a liking to your clothes."  
  
Biting my lip, I unfurled my cargo pants. There were holes chewed in them and dried mice poop on one of the legs. I dropped the pants with a squeak. "Oh my god. You brought me pants with mice cooties! I'm going to have to bathe for a week!"  
  
"You're not going to want to see the rest of it then," Sparrow told me, plucking the top from my hands. "Anyway, cheer up. I brought you the dress you were wearing on the Pearl."  
  
"Oh God, no. Tell me you're joking." I covered my eyes with my hand. "Please. Tell me you're joking and you brought me something of yours."  
  
"I would, but I'd be lying." Sparrow pulled my hand away from my eyes. "There's not a chance that I'd lend ye anything of mine. Not with what you do to clothes."  
  
"But that dress is a monstrosity! It weighs a ton. How am I supposed to do any investigating in that," I protested as he thrust the dress that resembled my Uncle Sandor's 1953 powder blue-and-white Buick Roadmaster into my hands. The dress, like the car, was roughly the size and weight of a refrigerator.  
  
There was a snort of laughter that I realized came from Norrington. He quickly stifled it and went back to looking annoyed.  
  
"So," Sparrow said, resting his palms on my shoulders. "How do you come to be nearly struck by lightning on a clear, sunny day in the Caribbean?"  
  
"You mean you don't know," Norrington asked, leaning forward. "She told you about being the future and she didn't explain to you about last Christmas?"  
  
Turner's mouth dropped open as he gaped at me again. "She's from the future?"  
  
"Cripes! How many people are you going to blab that to?!" I socked Norrington on the shoulder. He rolled his eyes at me, so I socked him again, harder this time and was rewarded with a wince. "You keep blabbing that and you're going to mess up history. My future might not be perfect, but I kind of like it."  
  
"It might not be wise to hit the nice Commodore, love," Sparrow said, draping an arm around me and steering me away from Norrington.  
  
"It is not wise to irritate the blacksmith, either," Turner snapped, glaring at me. "If you've put Elizabeth in danger with your antics –"  
  
"Hey, hey, people! Can't we all just get along?" Diesel threw open the door of the smithy. He was back to wearing his jeans, no leather jacket and just a plain white T-shirt and his trademark sunglasses, which he whipped off as he walked in. His brown eyes cut to me and his grin grew wider. "Sweet cheeks! You and Noose found Junior, huh?"  
  
Norrington got to his feet. "So. You are from the future as well. Do you also control lightning?"  
  
"Unh!" Diesel slapped a hand to his forehead. "Who's the blabbermouth in this room, Stephanie Plum?"  
  
I rolled my eyes. "Aw c'mon! He nearly got incinerated by lightning on a clear day. What was I supposed to tell him? They didn't invent science fiction and UFOs yet!"  
  
Diesel shook his head, sighed and looked at all of us. "All right, kiddies, gather 'round. Uncle Diesel is going to tell you a little story."  
  
We all gathered around.  
  
Diesel grinned and took a deep breath. "Let's start with this. I'm from the future. Stephanie is from the future, too. She's here by accident and I'm here to clean up the mess, not necessarily hers, but hers, too."  
  
I rolled my eyes as there were three sets of muffled coughs.  
  
"In the future, and probably now, too, though we don't know about it," Diesel continued, "some human beings have the ability to operate beyond what are considered to be normal limitations. Ring's dad is a one of these people and he was a bad guy. He used his power to dominate people and amuse himself until a group of his peers got together and tried to make him stop. This went on for a long time, until they all got old. Ring was locked away but he got out and ended up in Stephanie's hometown where he dated her granny. That's how Steph and I met. I'm sort of in the same line of work. I track down people who've strayed from the system. And I go after bad guys. Long story short, and I'm leaving out how Stephanie thought elves were real and got attacked by midgets, we got Ring back into custody. Things were quiet. I went back to my life, Stephanie went back to whatever disaster she calls a life and then boom! Junior suddenly started showing that he was special. We spent years watching him, but he never did anything special, and I mean anything. Pretty much, we figured he was one of life's losers, but then he hooked up with some of his dad's buddies and learned about bombs and stuff. And it turned out he has his dad's powers, not to mention a vendetta against Stephanie."  
  
Four pairs of eyes cut to me. I rolled my eyes again. "What about the time travel stuff?"  
  
"We're working on that," Diesel told me.  
  
"What about my Grandma Mazur? Junior threatened her."  
  
"We're watching her."  
  
"And Rex. You've got to watch Rex. He threatened Rex, too."  
  
Diesel rolled his eyes. "You want us to watch a hamster?"  
  
I folded my arms across my chest and stared at him.  
  
"Let me get this straight, you're asking me to watch your hamster, but you haven't asked about your boyfriend."  
  
"I was getting there," I protested. "Junior also threatened Bob."  
  
"I thought your boyfriend's name was Morelli," Sparrow commented. "Or was that Ranger?"  
  
"I thought you were her paramour, Sparrow," Norrington said, with a sniff of disdain. At least I figured it was disdain, since we just 'dis' without the 'dain' back in the Burg. "It appears you are being cuckolded. Several times over."  
  
Turner didn't say anything, but his mouth was hanging open.  
  
"Oooh! Noose has a crush on Stephanie," Diesel sing-songed. "You get around, don't you, Sweet Cheeks? Alright, we'll check in on the hamster and on the dog. You want us to keep an eye on Morelli, too? Ranger can take care of himself. We don't need to worry about him."  
  
I had to ask. "Is Ranger one of you guys?"  
  
"That would be telling." Diesel took a deep breath. "All right, kids, I have to go back to work now. I'd ask you to keep Stephanie out of trouble, but none of you are that good."  
  
With that, he turned around and walked out. Turner was the fastest, throwing open the door and looking out. He came back, still looking dazed. "He's gone. Vanished."  
  
They all stared at me again.  
  
I shrugged. "Does anybody have any cake?" 


	15. What Next?

Chapter 15 – What Next?  
  
My stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the silence and reminding me that it was close to dinner time. All three men turned to stare at me. "What? I skipped breakfast and lunch."  
  
"I am afraid," Norrington told me, "that you should send your regrets to Mrs. Turner regarding her kind dinner invitation earlier. We would not want to see your enemy harm the Turners, would we, Stephanie?"  
  
"I'll gladly pass on your regrets," Will Turner said, looking relieved.  
  
I sighed loudly. If I were home and had a day like this one, I would either be at my parents' house or holed up in my apartment with a sub from Giovichinni's and a couple of cold beers. Unfortunately, I wasn't home and probably subs hadn't even been invented yet. Beer, I'd learned, was served at room temperature. Yuck.  
  
"Poor lass," Sparrow purred in my ear, as his hand cupped the back of my neck and he started to knead lightly. "I'll bet ye could do with a hot bath, a hot meal and a soft bed."  
  
"All that can be had at the fort," Norrington said. "It is, I believe, the safest place for both of you."  
  
"It would be, I suppose, for today, but seeing as it's nearly sundown and today is almost gone, your promise not to hang me is also almost gone." Sparrow's tone was still light, but his grip on my neck tightened just a drop. "Given the circumstances, I'm afraid we're going to have to take our leave."  
  
"Oh, for heaven's sake..." Norrington sighed dramatically. "I will grant you clemency until we catch this Ring person."  
  
Sparrow cocked his head to the side and flashed those teeth again. "No day's head start, Commodore?"  
  
Another sigh. "Very well. You may have a day's head start."  
  
"Thank you, Commodore Norrington." Sparrow bowed with a flourish.  
  
"Jack..." Turner looked at Sparrow with a raised eyebrow. "Are you certain?"  
  
"Why, young Mister Turner," Sparrow scolded him gently. "The Commodore's a man of his word. If he promises not to hang me and to give me a day's head start, he'll do it. He is a most fair and upstanding gentleman, you know."  
  
"I certainly hope so," Turner said, softly. "For your sake."  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
"This is most unfair and underhanded of you, Commodore."  
  
Norrington smiled almost smugly as his red-coated soldiers slammed the cell door shut on a flabbergasted Sparrow. "I said I wouldn't hang you and I promised a day's head start. I did not promise not to put you where I do not have to worry about you."  
  
"But he hasn't done anything," I protested.  
  
Norrington clucked at me. "Hasn't done anything? Why, Jack Sparrow is a most notorious pirate who has committed unspeakable crimes. It would be rather imprudent of me to allow him to wander about the fort."  
  
I rolled my eyes. "What did he do that was so awful?"  
  
"Sailing under false colors, arson, kidnapping, looting, poaching, pillaging, depravity, deprivation, impersonating a cleric of the Church of England, impersonating an officer of the Royal Navy, among other things," Norrington recited, looking almost bored. "He was sentenced to hang, you know."  
  
I turned to Sparrow. "You did all that?"  
  
He grinned at me and lounged back on the filthy pile of straw that lined the cell. "Pirate."  
  
Norrington took my arm and guided me towards the door. "He'll be quite safe in here while you enjoy a hot bath and a hot meal. I'll put you in the adjoining cell afterwards. And you know, Stephanie, the Crown has offered a five hundred pound bounty for Sparrow."  
  
I was more stunned by the 'adjoining cell' remark than the money, but Norrington thought my dazed expression was because I thought five hundred pounds was like winning the lottery.  
  
"Five hundred pounds is a very large sum," he explained, with a small smile. "It would keep you in clothing for nearly a year, given your current rate of wardrobe destruction."  
  
"Hey!" Sparrow jumped back to his feet and pounded on the bars. "Love? Stephanie? Are you just going to leave me here?"  
  
I turned to Norrington and gave him my most innocent, wide-eyed look. "Could you maybe give us a couple of minutes? He's been awfully nice to me and all, even if he did do all that stuff."  
  
"Of course. I'll instruct my staff to prepare your bath. That should give you sufficient time to discuss Sparrow's extremely colorful past." He let go of my arm and turned to go up the stairs. "Consider the bounty. You could be a very rich woman."  
  
I watched him disappear up the stairs before turning to Sparrow. The first thing I did was make the sign of the cross. "You impersonated a priest?!"  
  
"Can you get me out of here before ye start convicting me of all that codswallop," Sparrow demanded. He blinked and then smiled. "You're Catholic?"  
  
I rested my forehead against the bars. "How am I supposed to get you out of here? I'm not exactly Wonder Woman."  
  
"Leverage," Sparrow told me. "The whelp showed me how, the last time I was here. I can show you and you can pop me out of here in two shakes of a lamb's tail."  
  
Great. Stephanie Plum, bounty hunter and leader of a jailbreak in the colonial Caribbean. "Even if I get you out, we're kind of outnumbered. How far would we get before he throws us back in the hoosegow?"  
  
Sparrow winked at me. "Who says ol' Rigid Britches'll catch us? Besides, this could be yer golden opportunity to impersonate an officer of the Royal Navy, love."  
  
He was rattling my cage. I hoped. I decided to rattle his right back. "Is five hundred pounds a really lot of money?"  
  
He gaped at me. "After all I've done for you?"  
  
"Relax. I'm not turning you over." I checked the stairs to make sure we were still alone. My first jail break. Morelli would kill me. Ranger probably would have had the door open by now and made a rope ladder out of Sparrow's dreadlocks. Me? I had no clue about what to do. Whistling the theme from 'The Great Escape' was all that came to mind. "What do I need to do?"  
  
"Pick up that bench over there and prop it under here," Sparrow indicated a spot on the door. "All ye need to do then is give it a good hard shove."  
  
I looked at the worn wooden bench doubtfully. "It looks heavy."  
  
"Will ye just try it?!" Desperation was starting to creep into his voice, making me wonder how long it took the Royal Navy to run a hot bath.  
  
I walked over to the bench and grabbed it. Lift with your knees, not your back, I reminded myself. I heaved. The bench didn't budge. I tried again and got it an inch off the floor.  
  
"Miss Plum!" Norrington. And he was all business, barking my name like it was an order to fire on the enemy.  
  
It startled me so badly that I dropped the bench on my foot. "Yowwww!"  
  
With an exasperated sigh, Norrington walked over and lifted the bench off of my foot. "I will refrain from asking whether you were about to attempt some sort of jail break. We will simply agree that you would not have been successful, yes?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Good." He handed me the keys. "You may let Sparrow out."  
  
I looked down at the keys. It sounded good, but I'd seen too many movies- of-the-week. "Why? You're not going to shoot him in the back and claim it was an escape attempt, are you?"  
  
"No, we're going to leave. All three of us. Immediately." Norrington snatched the keys from my hand. "It seems your friend, Mister Ring Junior, paid a visit to the fort while we were otherwise occupied and eliminated Mister Comstock in a most horrible manner. Apparently, Comstock may have had valuable information after all."  
  
"Comstock's dead?" I nearly forgot about the Bob Cratchit wanna-be that Norrington was holding for questioning. Now it looked like those questions weren't going to be answered any time soon. I shuddered, thinking what a lightning bolt could do to a person.  
  
"Yes." Norrington unlocked Sparrow's cell. "You are not safe here and I am beginning to have my concerns about anyone else you may have encountered during your stay in Port Royal. I doubt Will Turner will enjoy being whisked from his home, but we need to move all of you to a safer place until Diesel returns and we can formulate a plan. All the weapons at my disposal are no match for a man who controls lightning."  
  
I had a feeling that admission cost Norrington a lot.  
  
If Sparrow agreed with my feeling, he didn't show it. He just stepped out of the cell and eyed Norrington suspiciously. "Ye're sure you're not going to do what she said?"  
  
"You will meet your end, Sparrow, mark my words, but not by such cowardly means," Norrington told him. "I do not shoot my enemies in the back."  
  
"I'm an enemy, am I," Sparrrow chuckled. "And here I was thinking we were on our way to becoming great friends."  
  
"Wait a second." I glared at both of them. "I thought the fort was the safest place on the island. Where else is there?"  
  
"Isla de Muerta?" Sparrow asked.  
  
"Isla de Muerta," Norrington agreed. "The journey itself is risky, but there are no innocent civilians on the island."  
  
My high school Spanish wasn't great and it took me a few more seconds to translate. "No way. Not a chance. There's no way a place called Death Island could possibly be safe."  
  
"I am asking the assistance of a pirate, Miss Plum," Norrington said, cutting his eyes to me. "That alone should clear up any doubts you may have about the breadth of our options."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Oh indeed." His hard expression softened a little. "I'm having my men pack some provisions. I have not forgotten that you've not eaten all day. You can eat and rest in the carriage on our way to retrieve the Turners. Sparrow, you are anchored on the far side of Port Royal, are you not?"  
  
"Why, Commodore, ye've known where the Pearl was all this time? Excellent work, man." Sparrow beamed at him. "Here I was thinking we were well concealed."  
  
"You are. Please proceed to your ship and make preparations. Miss Plum and I will be there are soon as possible with the Turners." Norrington took my arm as he told Sparrow, "I am taking her with me so that I may keep a watchful eye over her. You will be less of a target to this Ring person without her."  
  
"What about you, Commodore? Aren't ye afraid of being incinerated?"  
  
The two men looked at me.  
  
"What?" I asked. "You think I'm not scared?"  
  
"I'm wondering what scares me more," Sparrow said, with a grin. "You or your enemies." 


	16. Prince Charming

Chapter 16 -- Prince Charming

When I was a little girl, I never had fantasies of being Cinderella, riding around in a carriage with six white horses and Prince Charming. I still didn't want to be Cinderella and even though I was in a carriage being pulled by two brown horses, I was pretty sure that Norrington was definitely not Prince Charming. He was close, though. Any man who remembered not only to pack a picnic hamper full of cheese, bread and wine but also cookies ranked pretty high. If Norrington didn't scare the crap out of me, the carriage ride might have been kind of romantic.

Norrington surveyed the empty hamper and uncorked the bottle of wine, passing it to me. "I'm afraid you'll have to sip straight from the bottle, Miss Plum. The road is too bumpy for wine glasses."

I took a small sip and passed it back. "Thanks."

"So."

"Yes?" Conversations that Norrington started with 'so' generally didn't bode well for the person on the other side.

"Have you given any thought to what you will do if you cannot go back?"

"No," I lied.

"Of course not." Norrington gave me a small, pitying smile. "You should think of it, Miss Plum, and think carefully. I know that you've established a rapport with Sparrow, but even you must know that pirates do not die in their dotage. They tend to die horribly, some at the end of a noose or others at the hands of enemies they've made or still more are even murdered by their own crews. Your fate, should such an event occur, would likely be worse than Sparrow's."

It took a minute for me to figure out what he was saying. "Oh."

"You haven't many other choices," Norrington continued. "I doubt you could successfully ply your trade as a bounty hunter in Port Royal, given the rarity of villains that I myself do not catch."

He was scaring the crap out me more than usual. "What else is there? It's not like you have a button factory I could work at."

"I suppose," he said, slowly, "there is marriage."

I snorted. "Yeah, because there's such a big singles scene down here."

"Townsfolk would be less likely to gossip about you and I would be able to temper your more reckless impulses, while keeping you out of trouble."

I blinked. It wasn't the wine, because I'd only had a small sip. "What are you talking about?"

"Marriage," he repeated.

"It almost sounds like you're suggesting marriage to you."

"I am."

The interior of the carriage seemed a lot smaller all of a sudden. "What?! How? Why? You don't even like me!"

"I might." A small smile crept across his face. "Just a little."

"Ohmigod. I'm gonna faint." I leaned forward and put my head between my legs. Hyperventilating was a lot safer than dealing with the situation at hand.

There was a low snort of self-deprecating laughter. "Don't worry, Miss Plum. Your reaction is quite normal. My proposals seem to have that effect on women."

That got me back upright again. "Your proposals – oh....Elizabeth."

"Well?"

"Well what?" It was my lamest effort ever at stalling.

"Will you at least consider it?"

"But you hate me," I babbled. "And I don't even know if you have hair under that wig."

He reached up and lifted off the wig, revealing thick dark brown hair. Without the wig, he looked much younger and I realized he was about the same age as Morelli. "Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

I shook my head and tried not to stare. Norrington wasn't just kind of hot. He was hot. Once you got him out of the wig and took the stick out of his ass, I was willing to bet he was downright sexy. I gave myself a mental head slap. This was one complication I really didn't need.

"Then perhaps you will allow me to satisfy my own curiosity." With that, he pulled me closer and kissed me.

It was unfair. Norrington was also a good kisser. I was four for four and it was starting to get really crowded in my life. When I thought Sparrow was a hallucination, fooling around with him didn't bother me because fooling around with a hallucination didn't mean I was cheating on Morelli. Now that I knew I really was in 1689, my Catholic guilt was starting to kick in but good.

Finally, he let go of me. "I apologize, Miss Plum. I was far bolder than propriety allows."

He didn't look sorry in the least as he put his wig back on.

Shooting me a smug smile, he settled back in his seat. "You will consider my proposal, won't you?"

"Uh....I guess."

"You guess?"

"There's still the little problem that we're not in love. In fact, you scare the crap out of me." Did I just admit that out loud?

"We could learn to love each other in time," Norrington told me. "Most couples do. As far as scaring you.... If it keeps you out of trouble, perhaps scaring you is not such a bad thing, is it?"

"Sparrow –"

"Will get you killed." He cocked his head at me. "On the other hand, you could very well be the death of him, given your propensity for getting yourself into trouble."

I rolled my eyes at him, but didn't have a chance to come up with a comeback because we were at the Turners' place.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Stay here," Norrington instructed me. "I'll be but a moment."

"Right." I shoved past him and slid out of the carriage, nearly falling over. I'd forgotten I was wearing a Buick.

He took my arm with a loud sigh and steered me towards the house. "Didn't Sparrow warn you about going off by your – what was it?"

"Onesies."

"Onesies," Norrington repeated, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "He wouldn't like to hear that you attempted it, would he?"

"He wouldn't like to hear that you bad-mouthed him and proposed to me, either."

"I doubt it would surprise him."

"Liar."

"Hardly." Norrington guided me to the Turners' front steps. He stopped abruptly and turned to me. "Go back to the carriage."

I saw what set him off. The front door was wide open. "Like hell."

I heard him mutter something about tempering my reckless impulses as we made our way into the Turners' house. It looked like somebody put up a fight. Vases and two of the dining room chairs were smashed. The smell of ozone was strong.

Elizabeth lay unconscious on the floor of the dining room. Norrington got to her first and lifted her head into his lap. After a few heart-stopping seconds, she started to come around.

"Will," she said, weakly. Her eyes met mine. "He took Will."

Now I really felt faint.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's note: It's been a while since I've updated and I'd like to thank everybody who sent me subtle and not-so-subtle reminders to continue. I have a pretty demanding job and it just became the busy season. I'll try to keep the chapters coming. Thanks to all of you!! Hugs! In the meantime, if you need recommended reading, check out postings by Geekmama and Cinnamongrrl.


	17. A Man, A Plan and a Proposal

Chapter 17 - A Man, A Plan and a Proposal

"Can you sit up," Norrington asked Elizabeth. He turned to me and for the first time, Norrington was wearing his emotions on his face. Deep down, he still had feelings for Elizabeth. "Stephanie, go fetch a basin of water and a cloth."

I was so worried about Elizabeth, I didn't bother to comment on the 'fetch' part and hurried into the kitchen. There weren't any basins and I nearly smacked my head when I remembered that the kitchen sink wouldn't be invented for years to come. Luckily, there was a pitcher of water and a large salad bowl. I grabbed a soft ivory-colored linen napkin from one of the cupboards, finding it more by luck than anything else and rushed back.

Elizabeth was sitting up in Norrington's arms. "Really, James, I'm fine. It's just a bump --- Good lord! Stephanie Plum!"

I stopped in my tracks. Had I accidentally stepped in blood and guts somewhere? Did I have a huge pimple? Or did she blame me for what happened to Will? "What?"

She was gaping at the blue dress but then quickly covered her reaction. "I'm glad to see you."

"It's the dress." I looked down at myself. I was the size of the Buick in the stupid thing. "Sparrow made me wear it."

"I shall have to have a word with him," Elizabeth said, solemnly. "James, do help me to my feet, won't you?"

Norrington obeyed, easing her to her feet with a gentleness I didn't think he had in him. "Can you tell us what happened?"

She nodded, her eyes flashing. "That horrible man just....appeared in the dining room. Will went after him and they fought. There was a bright flash and I couldn't see, but I heard that man say words I shall never forget."

My mouth was dry. "What did he say?"

"He said..." She paused, her eyes cutting from me to Norrington, as she took a deep breath, "tell that...bitch she can't run. There's nowhere she can run where I can't destroy her piece by piece."

Norrington took my hand. "Did he say anything else?"

"He said he's already started changing history." Elizabeth pursed her lips and looked at me. "I'm not sure what he means."

Something was nagging at me. "He murdered Comstock and Stark and he's got Turner and.... Holy cats! Comstock. Stark. Turner."

Now they were both staring at me.

I slapped a hand to my forehead. "Unh! I should've seen this coming."

Norrington grabbed my other hand, so that I couldn't do any more head slapping. "What? What should you have seen?"

"Comstock, Stark and Turner are all streets in the Burg. He's trying to prevent the Burg from existing!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Without thinking about it, I wrenched myself free from Norrington and took off. There really was no place to hide and Sparrow's ship was the least safe of all. All it would take was one well-placed bolt of lightning and we'd all be dead, the ship going up like a dried-out Christmas tree. I couldn't endanger anybody else. I needed to find somewhere to hide and figure out my next move.

I was moving pretty fast, despite the fact I was wearing a Buick and figured I was out of there, when I heard Norrington order his men to seize me.

Four redcoats blocked my way. I stopped short. This was the equivalent of fighting with a cop. Did I really want to fight with Norrington's cops?

"Easy now, miss." I didn't recognize this redcoat, but he had incredibly bad teeth. "The Commodore wants you to stay and I'd rather not hit a lady."

Ranger would have knocked out all four in three seconds flat. If the Burg still existed and I got home, I'd have to start paying attention to things like learning how to fight. I hoped it didn't involve too much exercise, since I didn't see how anything that made you get up before the sun came up was a good thing.

"There's a good girl," said another redcoat.

"She's not a bloody horse," the third said, while the fourth nodded in agreement.

This was my big chance. As they started to bicker, I took off again. Norrington shouted and gave chase. I ran faster.

I was huffing and puffing and there was a painful stitch in my side. Okay, maybe if I'd been better at getting up before sunrise and jogging with Ranger, I wouldn't have been wheezing. Or caught by Norrington.

He grabbed me by my voluminous skirts and tugged. Amazingly, the fabric didn't tear or even pull. We tumbled to the ground and he had me pinned in less than a second.

"Propriety just went out the window, huh," I gasped.

Norrington rolled his eyes. He wasn't even winded and his wig was still perfect. Not a hair out of place. "I'm certain men tackle you all the time in the future."

"Not really."

"I will know if you're lying, remember?" He let that sink in. "If I release you, do you promise not to run again or must I truss you up like a common prisoner?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I'll bet there's a good story behind this," Sparrow said, his eyes flicking over the bonds around my wrists as Norrington pushed me up the gangplank and onto the deck of the Black Pearl. "Where's the whelp?"

"That dreadful man took him, Jack," Elizabeth told him.

Something hardened in Sparrow's eyes. "Don't worry, darling. We'll get him back."

If he was still alive, I added silently. I turned to Norrington. "You gonna untie me or what?"

He handed the rope that led to my bound wrists to Sparrow. "I'm turning her over to you, to do with as you will. You should know she tried to run off by her...onesies. Twice."

"Twice, eh?" Sparrow looked down at me. "I don't know whether to put ye over my knee, toss ye in the brig or keelhaul ye."

"I only ran off once," I argued. At least he didn't threaten to make me swab the deck. "And there was a good reason."

"It was not," Norrington sniffed. "She believes she's made sense of the villain's plan and thought the best way to ensure no harm came to anyone else would be to run off –"

"By her onesies," Sparrow finished. He turned to Gibbs, who just appeared by his elbow. "Get us under way and keep our guests entertained. The lady and I are going to me cabin for a wee chat."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Well," Sparrow said, guiding me into his cabin. "You've certainly won over ol' Norrie, didn't ye? I'll bet he's so smitten he's thinking of proposin'."

How did he know? I emitted a small squeak.

Sparrow's eyebrows threatened to climb up under his do-rag. "He didn't."

"No. Really," I said, quickly.

He leaned down, his nose practically touching mine. "Ah, but he did. Did ye accept? Are ye goin' to be Mrs. Rigid-Britches and raise a gaggle of little Norringtons? Were ye going to invite me to the wedding?"

Oh great! Jealous Jack. I rolled my eyes. "I'm not marrying anybody."

"What about the great Morelli?"

"Anybody," I repeated. "Ever. I think."

"You think." He cocked his head, face still right in front of mine. "You're of an age, I suppose, where any offer of marriage is a good one."

Did he just say I was an old maid? "I could get married if I wanted to."

"But ye don't."

"No."

"Why not?"

I thought of my ex, Dickie Orr and Joyce Barnhardt doing it on my dining room table and shuddered. "I have my reasons."

"Such as?"

"I don't want to be a housewife. I like my job."

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "There's more. We'll come back to it someday, you and I."

"It wasn't really a proposal."

"Did he kiss you?"

"What?"

"If he kissed ye, it was a proposal." Sparrow's gaze was intense. "Aye, he kissed ye. Go on, then, love. I won't stand in your way."

"I already told you –"

"Ye should marry the poor bugger. He's had one broken engagement already."

"Would you stop?! We have bigger problems than everybody wanting to marry me."

"I don't," he said, quietly.

"You don't what?"

"Want to marry you." Sparrow backed up a step. "Nothin' personal, love. I'm just not the marrying kind."

I heaved a relieved sigh. "That's great. Wonderful. Really. I don't want to marry you, either –"

"But I don't like Norrington messing about with ye," Sparrow continued. "He should have some respect for the notion that ye belong to me."

I could feel my eyes start to bug. "I what?"

"Belong to me."

"Like property? That's crazy! People aren't property."

"Tell that to them in the slave trade." He took my arm and steered me towards a chair. "Treasure trove is property that's been lost or abandoned and then found. I found ye on that raft. Hence, ye're treasure and ye're mine. Any other pirate would've either sold ye or had ye branded with his mark by now. In fact, I think a pretty sparrow on your ankle would be rather fetching."

I couldn't even form words. The best I could manage was a squeak.

"Welcome to 1689, love." Sparrow held the pissed off look for a second more and then he grinned and winked at me. "Gotcha!"

I rolled my eyes. "Jerk."

"Norrie was expecting me to pitch a jealous fit. Now ye can tell him I did and I scared the devil out ye, just like the black-hearted beast he thinks I am." He held up a wicked-looking knife and sliced through my bonds. "Now, pet, tell me why ye tried to run away from Norrie because I'm sure it wasn't his proposal."

I quickly explained about the connection between Comstock, Stark and Turner and my concern about the ship.

Sparrow nodded thoughtfully. "Ye're right to be worried but I think he wanted ye to run off by your onesies. Easier to take you that way."

Oops. I didn't think of that.

"Ye didn't think about that, did ye?"

"Of course I did."

"Right." He stood up and pulled me to my feet. "Come. It's time to lay in a course for Isla de Meurte."

Great. We were on our way to Death Island. I was sure it wasn't going to look like Disneyland.


	18. Deja Vu All Over Again

Chapter 18 – Déjà Vu All Over Again

With a quick peck to my cheek, Sparrow went back to the deck of the Black Pearl, where he started shouting orders in rapid succession. His crew ran this way and that, rushing to keep up with everything he told them to do. Even though I'd spent nearly a month on the Pearl, I had no idea what any of it meant, just that I should stay out of the way. I backed up to avoid one of the pirates and crashed into the man with the muttonchops, Mr. Gibbs.

He grabbed my shoulders and steered me to the side, his eyes narrowed and his muttonchops quivering in annoyance. "Get out of the way!"

"Sorry –"

"Why don't ye go join Miss Elizabeth in the guest quarters," he suggested, softening his tone slightly.

"Guest quarters?" I'd been on the ship for a month and now I found out there were guest quarters? "Where?"

"Down them stairs," Gibbs told me, jabbing a grimy finger in the direction of the stairs past Sparrow's cabin. "Follow the hallway."

I guessed this meant it was okay for me to go around by my onesies. As I started to go in that direction, it occurred to me that Gibbs didn't mention whether Norrington was with Elizabeth. I tapped Gibbs on the shoulder.

He spun around, eyes bugging with impatience. "Now what?!"

"Where's Norrington?"

Gibbs' face reddened and I was afraid his eyes were going to bug right out of his head as he turned and spat on the deck. "In the other guest quarters. And don't get it into yer head to go down there, either, or Jack'll have me head."

Down there? I blinked in confusion and then I realized where the other 'guest quarters' were. "You put him in the brig?"

"Can't have him wanderin' around the ship." Déjà vu. Norrington's exact reason for locking Sparrow up earlier. This was payback. Gibbs gave me a shove and stalked off, calling over his shoulder, "Now, go on and get out of the way before ye get hurt an' I have to explain to Jack why you weren't safe an' snug somewhere."

I stared after him for a second while I weighed my options. Probably it wasn't worth interrupting Sparrow to ask to get Norrington out of the brig. I could already see the smirk. Who else would have a key? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Anamaria and I realized I didn't need a key. I chased after her. "Ana! Wait up!"

"No time fer chitchat now, Plum," she called back, waving a coil of rope at me.

I caught up to her. "Can I borrow a lockpick?'

"A pick?" Confusion flitted across her face as she paused and looked at me. After a second, her mouth set in a grim line as she figured out why I asked. "Forget it. Norrin'ton can rot down there after what he did to Jack."

"But –"

"No." She spat on the deck. I wondered if Norrington knew he was so popular. "Don't waste yer sympathies on the likes o' him."

"But I –"

"Leave him there," she told me as she walked briskly back towards the riggings, barking orders to the crew.

I watched them while I thought about whether it was really a good idea to let Norrington out of the brig. It wasn't any worse than what he did to Sparrow at the fort. But that didn't make it right, either. Gritting my teeth, I decided to do something about it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Norrington was standing up in his cell when I came down the stairs, his eyes following me as I came down the stairs. "Ah, Stephanie. Have you come to visit?"

"I came to get you out." I held up the lock pick I'd found in Sparrow's desk. "I couldn't find the key, but this should work just as well."

He held out his hand. "I've not had much experience picking locks, but I suppose I could try."

"I can do it," I told him, crouching in front of the cell door. "I did it before and I was in the cell. Now I can see what I'm doing."

"You were in the cell?" Norrington echoed. "Sparrow put you – never mind. After spending a day with you, I can understand why."

I rolled my eyes. "I could leave you in there."

He moved closer to the bars, looking down as I fiddled with the pick. "Are you certain I can't help?"

There was a rusty clinking noise and I pulled open the door. "See? Piece of cake."

"You possess many interesting talents," Norrington said, stepping out of the cell. He took my hand and raised it to his lips. "Nevertheless, you have my gratitude."

"You're welcome. I think." I glanced towards the stairs. "Probably, you should stay down here for a while. You're not exactly the most popular person on board."

"Really? I thought this was the royal suite."

"What did I tell you about sarcasm, Noose?"

His eyes flashed and then a smile crossed his face as he slipped out of his fancy uniform jacket. "Am I permitted to be sarcastic now?"

I gaped at him. He was flirting! Hang 'em High Norrington was flirting. And possibly even stripping. Did I want to see Naked Norrington?

"Ah, the periwig. I forgot that you disliked it." He pressed his jacket into my hands and took off his hat and wig. "Better?"

Were his pants supposed to be that tight? I tried to remember pictures of the Revolutionary War and realized that they were supposed to cling to his calves like that. But were they supposed to show off his butt like that? Should I even be looking at Norrington's butt?

"Stephanie?"

"Oh...uh..."

Norrington moved closer. "Yes, it is better, isn't it?"

As he bent to kiss me, I spun on my heel and took off up the stairs. I wasn't military or even a pirate, but as a bounty hunter, I understood the importance of knowing when to retreat.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I didn't stop running until I let myself into the guest cabin, slammed the door behind me. Grabbing the nearest chair, I jammed it under the doorknob. When I turned around, I saw Elizabeth staring at me, eyes wide.

"Stephanie? Whatever is the matter?" She moved closer. "Is that James' uniform?"

I looked down and realized I was still holding the heavy blue wool jacket, even after moving furniture. "Um...yeah."

"I don't believe I've ever seen him without it," she said, lifting the jacket from my hands and looking at the shiny gold accents. When she looked up, she was smiling. "I am certain there is a good story behind this. You must share it with me."

"But –"

"It will take my mind off of Will," she cajoled. Not for the first time, I knew she would have been at home in the 21st Century. "Details, Stephanie Plum. I crave details."

I told her everything, from the proposal, to the kiss, to the nice butt and then I talked about Ranger and Morelli. I decided against mentioning Dickie Orr and Joyce Barnhardt, since divorce was probably really against the rules in1689.

When I finished, she handed the jacket back to me. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm hoping I can go back home and not have to worry about it."

"But you have the same problem there, too," she argued. "If it were me...."

Ah, now we were getting somewhere. "If it were you what?"

Elizabeth leaned closer and whispered softly, as if she were afraid of being overheard. "I wouldn't get married, either. I would keep Will, mind you, the same way you have your Morelli, but I would have my own life. It must be wonderful to be able to do whatever you want, whenever you want, without being constantly told that you are being unladylike or improper."

"They just tell me I'm a menace."

"Suppose you cannot go home." She flashed a wicked smile. "Could you choose between Jack and James?"

I was saved from having to answer the question when a bolt of lightning flashed outside the window.


	19. The Weather Started Getting Rough

Chapter 19 - The Weather Started Getting Rough

"Well," Diesel's voice boomed in my ear, "whose bright idea was it to go out on a big wooden ship in the middle of the ocean?"

Elizabeth's eyes cut from Diesel, to the door, where the chair was still firmly wedged under the knob, and then back again. "How –"

"You mean somebody here doesn't know about the future or me being a superhero," Diesel asked, loudly, poking me. "Did you not try to stop this, sweet cheeks? You at least know about Ben Franklin and his kite."

"They wouldn't listen," I told him. "They decided we need to hide out at some Death Island place."

"They?"

"Sparrow and Norrington."

Diesel raised his hands in an 'it figures' gesture. "Death Island, huh. Sounds like a load of laughs."

"Isla de Muerta," Elizabeth put in, helpfully. "It's a hidden island where the Black Pearl makes its berth."

"A hidden island, huh?" Diesel cut his eyes to me, grin returning. "Is it deserted? And which of you was going to be MaryAnne? I always had a crush on her."

Another bolt of lightning flashed outside. Elizabeth and I both started at the sight.

"Relax," Diesel said, draping his arms around us. "That's just a regular ol' thunderstorm."

A second later, there was the reassuring boom of thunder. It was the first time I'd ever thought of thunder as reassuring and probably a thunderstorm at sea wasn't exactly a good thing, either.

"See? Nothing to worry about."

"If there's nothing to worry about, why are you here," I asked.

Diesel gave me a wide-eyed innocent look. "Are you saying I'm lying?"

"Let's see. Lightning. Thunder. Diesel," I ticked off. "It's about as coincidental as the smelly dog poop on Joyce Barnhardt's lawn and the couch that Bob ate."

"Remind me not to piss you off," Diesel said, letting go of us. "Okay, fine. So I'm not just in the neighborhood. Are you happy now?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Hey! Is that Noose's Navy jacket?" Diesel plucked it off of the chair, where I'd draped it. "Wow, this is heavy. You'd think they'd try and invent summer weight wool or a blend or something. Where is the Noose-man, anyway?"

"Stephanie left him in the brig," Elizabeth said. She was staring openly at Diesel, who was still wearing his 21st Century jeans and white T shirt.

"That's not nice, considering he almost got incinerated on account of you," Diesel scolded. "And he even loaned you his jacket!"

"I let him out of the cell," I protested. "And he didn't loan me his jacket."

"You swiped it?"

"No, he took it off."

Diesel grinned at me. "Took it off, eh? Now, I see. He kept the hat and the wig on and you two played hoist-the-yardarm, didn't you? Did you get to yell 'The British are coming'?"

My left eye started to twitch.

"Your eye is twitching again."

I slapped my hand over my eye. "Are you going to explain why you're here or are we going to play 20 questions?"

"I'm here to tell you your hamster is fine, the dog is fine. Your grandma is fine. Your parents are fine. You car isn't fine, but you knew that already." His eyes twinkled. "You wanna know about your boyfriend or is he history? No, wait. He can't be history because he hasn't happened yet."

I groaned and fought the urge to thump my head on the wall.

There was another flash of lightning. Elizabeth gasped and shot a worried look in my direction. When we turned back, Diesel was gone but there was a stack of my clothes on the table.

Elizabeth brushed past me and picked up a pair of my jeans. "How does he do that?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I strode across the deck of the Black Pearl, ignoring the stares of the crew and the shouts to reef sails and neatly avoiding the slippery puddles. It felt good to be in a pair of jeans and a tank top again, even if it was raining and my hair was getting ruined.

I made my way to Sparrow, who was clutching the big wooden wheel. He saw me, grabbed me and shoved me in front of him, placing my hands on the wheel.

"Are ye trying to get swept overboard," he demanded. "This is a squall. Look at those waves. And where did ye get those clothes?!"

"Diesel."

He made a disgusted noise. "He was just here, tryin' to reassure me that this is a normal storm. I could've told him that."

"Really?" I twisted around, trying to see him.

"Aye. I know these things." His hands squeezed mine gently as another wave crashed against the Pearl, drenching us both again. "You should get back inside, keep an eye on Norrington and Elizabeth."

I blinked. Didn't he know? "Norrington's in the brig."

"Gibbs." Sparrow grinned and winked at me. "Be a love and let ol' Norrie out, then, pet. The key's in the top drawer of my desk. After that, just make sure he stays out of the way. I'd tell ye to keep him out of trouble, but that'd be a waste of breath."

I rolled my eyes.

Hooking a finger in the strap of my tank top, Sparrow pulled me to him for a kiss. "Now get below before ye catch yer death."

"Speaking of death, how much longer till we get there?"

"Soon. Very, very soon."

As lightning flashed overhead, I wondered if it would be soon enough.


	20. Lightning Strikes Twice

Chapter 20 - Lightning Strikes Twice

"Good lord!"

I stopped in my tracks and glanced up the stairs behind me. Nothing there. There was nothing in front of me, either, so that meant Norrington's reaction could only been caused by me.

"Cover yourself, woman," he ordered. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. "Of course, you've absconded with my uniform –"

"Stick a sock in it," I told him. What a difference normal clothes made! I felt like myself again. There was no doubt about it. Spandex gave you superpowers. "I'm through wearing those godawful dresses."

"As am I."

We both turned to see Elizabeth come down the stairs wearing what was obviously a spare set of my clothes. Naturally, she filled out the tank top better than I did and even worse, my jeans were big on her.

Norrington's jaw dropped open and he made incoherent sounds.

"Oh, stick a sock in it, James," she scolded, repeating my insult – and it sounded better with the accent -- and then turned to me with a giggle. "These garments are most empowering, Stephanie. I do hope you don't mind that I borrowed them."

That wasn't all she borrowed. In my haste to make sure this was only a storm and nothing more nefarious, I overlooked something very important that Diesel packed for me. Elizabeth was wearing my web belt. I wore the web belt whenever I was going to need more than a convincing argument, which meant rarely, since I hate being in danger. The belt was fully loaded with my pepper spray, my stun gun, my handcuffs and my .38. If Diesel brought all that, it meant I was in more danger than I wanted to know about. "Uh, Elizabeth, can I have my belt?"

"Are these your weapons?" she asked, taking it off. "Is this what you wear when you're tracking your quarry?"

Norrington leaned in for a closer look, reaching tentatively for the stun gun. "I've never seen anything like these."

I took a step back and suddenly understood why Captain Kirk should have obeyed the Prime Directive. "Careful. These are dangerous."

"Then perhaps," Norrington said, dryly, "you should give them to me."

That earned him an eye roll. "Knock it off."

He frowned at the two of us. "To what do I owe this visit, ladies?"

I glanced at Elizabeth. No question about whether she'd been following me. "I talked to Sparrow. He said I'm supposed to keep you out of the way until we get to Death Island."

We both cut our eyes to Elizabeth. She snorted and rolled her eyes at both of us. No doubt about it, she'd been spending way too much time with me. "I suppose I should be kept out of the way as well, then."

"I believe we are all being kept out of the way," Norrington commented. "Nonetheless, we should arrive at our destination in about another hour, unless the weather turns more foul."

Elizabeth turned to me. "Have you thought of a way to get Will back?"

I didn't even have any idea where he was. Before I could answer, there was a loud crash of thunder. We all looked at each other and headed for the stairs.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

By the time we got above, the entire crew was staring skyward. Lightning was flashing across the sky with such frequency there was no doubt that it wasn't natural. Probably that was because we all knew lightning came down from the sky and not the other way around.

Gibbs made the sign of the cross, followed by AnaMaria.

Sparrow made his way over to me. "What do you suppose is going on?"

I shook my head.

"War," Norrington said, softly. "Unlike any you and I have ever seen."

There was another bolt of lightning, this one landing just two feet from where I was standing. When I could see again, I saw a smoking lump.

Diesel.

I made it to his side first. He was alive, but barely conscious. "Diesel –"

His lips moved, but I couldn't make out what he was trying to say.

Just when I figured out he was saying "trap," there was another bolt of lightning and this time, it hit me.

Everything went white. And then it went black.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Stephanie."

My head hurt. If it hurt that badly before I opened my eyes, what would it be like if I actually opened them? I decided I didn't want to know and clamped them closed tighter.

"I know you're awake."

And I knew that voice. I was beginning to worry that I'd never hear it again. Even though I knew I'd probably regret it, I opened my eyes. "Lula!"

"It's about time you woke up," she told me.

If my head didn't ache from whatever I'd just gone through, the bright lemon yellow of her outfit would have made my head hurt anyway. She was lemon yellow from the color of her hair to the bright yellow pumps she was wearing. Lula was squeezed into a lemon-colored spandex dress. Never was I so happy to see something that yellow.

Maybe that meant I'd really been hallucinating. There was no Sparrow, no Norrington, no Black Pearl, no ---

"You! I knew you were a menace." Will Turner came up from behind Lula. "I should have known the two of you knew each other."

"You'd be a lot better lookin' if you didn't talk," Lula told him. "Or if you talked nice to people. I like your accent but you're one nasty mother –"

"Lula!" I sat up and looked around. We were in a big, white room with no window and no door that I could see. I couldn't see much, since Lula was right in front of me, blocking my view in all her plus-sized yellow glory. "Is it just us? Is anybody else here?"

Lula stepped aside so I could have a better look.

My jaw dropped.

My Grandma Mazur and my niece, Mary Alice, were sitting with Elizabeth, Sparrow and Norrington on the floor.

Grandma Mazur turned to me and waved. "You've gotta meet this here pirate fellow. He's a real pip!"

There was no doubt about it. We were in trouble.


	21. What Next? again

"Hey," said yet another familiar voice. "Did anybody else notice there's no door?"

We all turned in the direction of the voice. It belonged to Albert Kloughn, my brother-in-law, a really nice guy and probably the worst lawyer I ever met. His office was next to a Laundromat and when he wasn't busy with cases, Albert managed the Laundromat. Albert tended to manage the Laundromat a lot. Kloughn bore an uncanny resemblance to the Pillsbury doughboy, but like I said, he was a really nice guy and he was married to my sister.

"How did we get in here if there's no door?" Kloughn asked. He came over to me, stopping short when he saw the Turners, Sparrow and Norrington. "Who're they?"

"It's a long story," I told him and then made a fast round of introductions. Probably explanations could wait til later, I decided.

Sparrow turned to Kloughn. "You're a clown?"

"No. My name is Kloughn," Kloughn explained, spelling it. "I'm a lawyer."

Looking pointedly at Kloughn's stomach, Sparrow mused, "You must be very successful."

Grandma Mazur snorted at this. So did Mary Alice.

"What? I do okay." Kloughn blinked at me. "Don't I?"

"Sure you do," I told him. I figured if okay meant living in my parents' house with the new baby and my sister and her kids, he was doing just fine.

Grandma snorted again. "How long do you think we're gonna be stuck in here? Stiva's got old man Kraynak laid out and I don't wanna miss it. Kraynak was doing you-know-what with Rose Badiner when his ticker gave out. She started having chest pains and fell out of bed and broke her hip. Stiva's is gonna be packed and I want to make sure I get a good seat."

"Me, too," Mary Alice added.

I stared at her. "Since when do you go to Stiva's?"

"Since Grandma told me they had cookies," Mary Alice admitted. "This'll be my first time."

"I figured she needed to get out of the house, what with all the snook-ums, snuggle-umpkins going on. God knows I needed a break," Grandma said.

"What can I say? Kloughn asked, with a shrug. "I like to be affectionate."

"Snuggle-umpkins?!" Lula scrunched up her face. "What the hell is a snuggle-umpkins? Anybody ever called me that, I'd be insulted."

Mary Alice was staring up at Sparrow. "What are you supposed to be?"

"I, young miss, am a pirate," he told her.

She scrunched up her face while she thought about that. Then she announced, "I'm a horse."

"Ah." He looked over her head at me and winked. "I've heard about you."

"What about you?" Mary Alice asked Norrington. "Are you a pirate, too?"

Norrington gave her a stern look. "Certainly not, young lady. Do you not recognize an officer of the Royal Navy?"

Mary Alice shook her head. "Nope."

This struck Elizabeth as funny because she giggled, tried to disguise it as a cough, and failed miserably. "Perhaps if Stephanie hadn't taken your uniform coat, James…"

Lula looked Norrington up and down. "That's supposed to be a uniform?"

"It is, madam." He stared back pointedly, but didn't make a comment about her lemon yellow Spandex. Score one for the stiff upper lip.

Lula scowled at him. "Hunh. Maybe back when Washington crossed the Delaware –"

"Lula!" I cut her off quickly.

"What?

"This Washington person must be important," Sparrow said. He was using that tone of voice he used when he wanted something but wanted to be sneaky about getting it.

"He was only the first President," Kloughn snorted. "Don't tell me they don't teach you guys about the Revolutionary War just because you lost –"

"Albert!"

"What? I can't talk about American history?!"

"Uh, I…you can't right now." I looked helplessly around the room. A disaster was looming and there was no way to prevent it.

Norrington smiled thinly at me. "You may as well tell them everything, Stephanie."

"Everything? What's everything," Lula asked, suspiciously. "It's gotta be good if it involves men wearin' wigs and pirate costumes."

I sighed and began at the beginning.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Boy, can I pick 'em or what," Grandma Mazur said. "Who'd have thought John had that in him? I mean I thought he could kiss pretty good and all, but lightning?"

Sparrow, Norrington and the Turners were all gaping at her.

"What? I ain't dead yet. A girl's entitled to some fun, ain't she?" Grandma demanded.

Sparrow grinned at me. "I like her."

"I'm scared," Kloughn announced. "Isn't anybody else scared? I mean, it's scary, isn't it? People shooting lightning and time travel and exploding cars and pirates. Stephanie, you really need to think about a safer job. Maybe you could work for me –"

"And un-jam the dryers?" Lula snorted. "Hunh! 'Sides, ain't no hot guys hangin' around that Laundromat. Ranger don't do his laundry there. All the hot guys got their own washing machines."

My eye started twitching again.

"The future must be a fascinating place," Elizabeth commented, placing a hand on Lula's arm. "Do all women dress like you?"

"Only the sexy ones," Lula told her. "You got it goin' on, though. I didn't know they had Spandex in the past."

"These are Stephanie's. She let me borrow them."

I noticed Will Turner shooting me a murderous look. I guessed he didn't much care for his wife dressing in Spandex. "So. Anyone come up with a plan?"

"We wait," Sparrow announced. "For the instant, we're trapped and unarmed in this space."

"Do you think an opportune moment will present itself, Jack," Turner asked. "This scoundrel seems undefeatable."

Sparrow nodded. "There's always an opportune moment, lad. Ye just have to wait until one presents itself."

With that, he sat down and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and lowering his hat. "Wake me if anythin' happens."

"Don't worry, you'll hear the screams," Kloughn assured him, turning to me. "How can he sleep? This is really scary."

"Get a hold of yourself, man," Norrington scolded Kloughn. "The women need you to be brave."

"I don't need him to be brave," Lula told Norrington. "I can take care of my own ass and his, if I gotta."

"What about the lightning?" Kloughn asked.

Lula shrugged. "So, we all end up deep fried. From what I hear, you don't even feel it. Zap! And it's all over."

"Can we not talk about getting zapped," I hissed at her, nodding in Mary Alice's direction.

"I'm not scared," Mary Alice announced. "Horses aren't afraid of lightning. Horses aren't afraid of anything."

Grandma Mazur sighed. "I can't believe I'm missing the Kraynak funeral for this."

It was going to be a long wait.


	22. Everything Goes Black

Chapter 22

Everything went black.


	23. The End, for Now

Chapter 23

I knew my eyes were open, but it was so dark that I wouldn't have known the difference if they were closed. Swallowing down the panic, I listened carefully. Not only was it dark, but it was very, very quiet.

"Grandma?"

Nothing.

"Sparrow?"

Nope.

"Noose?"

I lowered myself carefully to my knees and reached out with a hand. Sparrow should have been within arm's reach. But he wasn't.

"Mary Alice? Albert? Elizabeth? Will? Somebody?"

Suddenly I realized I could hear breathing. No. That was my panicked breathing. And that thumping was my heart. I crawled forward just the tiniest bit. Nothing. And I was sure there was a wall over to my right, except there wasn't one anymore.

What if this was it? What if I'd been struck by lightning and didn't know it? What if…. Maybe I was dead? Could this be what being dead was like? Ohmigod. The panic I'd been feeling gave way to full-blown terror.

And full-blown terror gave way to the realization that I had to pee. Probably if I was dead, I would be beyond things like having to pee. Now I had a dilemma. I had to pee and even though I thought I was alone, maybe I wasn't. At least I was alive. If I lived long enough to find a bathroom, I was sure things would be alright.

I crawled forward again. Still no wall. Still nothing. What happened to the room? What happened to my family? My friends? Hell, what happened to me?

I stopped crawling and sat Indian-style, trying to think this through. Had I left them? Or did they leave me? And did it even matter? At least I wasn't wearing that dress anymore. I reached down and double-checked that I was still dressed. I let out a small sigh and realized I was relaxing, just a little bit.

That's when everything went blindingly white.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I think I've just lost at least ten percent of my hearing."

I cracked open an eye and found myself looking at a perfectly healthy, uninjured Diesel. Opening the other eye, I realized we were in my apartment. Rex was running around in his wheel and the Devils were on the television. I cut my eyes to the left. Everything looked normal. When I looked back at Diesel, he was staring at me with an inscrutable expression.

"What the hell just happened?" I demanded.

"The Devils lost. Again." He dropped down next to me on the couch. "And you yelled."

A lot of thoughts ran through my head at once and I decided to try the one I liked best. "Was it a dream?"

"Was what a dream?"

"Sparrow. Junior."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, sweet cheeks? Sorry. Nope." Diesel leaned back and cracked his knuckles. "Long story short, some reinforcements got called in. Junior escaped, but we managed to send your granny, Lula, the kid and the fat guy back home. And no, they won't remember meeting all your friends from the past."

I blinked. "You can do that?"

"I just told you we did. Now," he took a deep breath. "Here's the not so great part. A few things got screwed up, so you have to go back to 1698 until we can straighten out the past and the future."

"I am not going back there," I protested. Why would I want to? The clothes were awful and there was a man with a wig who wanted to marry me. Of course, there was a cop with a badge in my present who wanted to marry me. If you looked at it that way, I wasn't safe anywhere.

"Sorry, sweet cheeks. I can't give you a choice."

I looked around my apartment. "Why can't I stay here?"

Diesel grinned. "Because this isn't your apartment. It just looks like it."

"And I repeat, why can't I stay here?"

"Them's are the orders," Diesel shrugged. "Look at it this way, you get to play with Noose for a little while. Or Sparrow. Or both. Frankly, I don't really wanna know. Personally, I'd stick with Noose. He's a little stiff, but at least he's got all his original teeth."

"But –" I started to protest.

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"But what, darlin'?" Sparrow asked me.

I blinked and looked around. We were standing on a beach, the sun beating down on us. I was still in my jeans and T-shirt. "How did I get here?"

"I asked myself the same question," came the unmistakable dry tones of Norrington from behind me. "Your infuriating acquaintance, Diesel, refused to answer. He did, however, inform me that Sparrow's ship will be coming for us in a few days."

"Where exactly are we?"

Sparrow grinned. "A little islet where I've been, uh, marooned once or twice before. Of course, back then, there was a tidy stash of rum. It breaks me heart to tell you there's none here, now."

"So…" I cut my eyes from one to the other. "You both remember everything?"

Norrington stood there, wearing only his frilly white shirt and a slightly pissed off expression. "Everything."

Including his proposal. It was going to be a long three days.

The end. For now.


End file.
